Rattlesnake (15 page)

Shortly after Jimmy turned off the spout so the tub wouldn’t overflow, Shane returned, carefully carrying a big plate heaped with sandwich triangles. With a soft grunt, he sat next to the tub and balanced the dish on his lap. “It’s not very fancy,” he said.

“That’s fine. But I’m not sure how I’m supposed to eat like this.” Jimmy lifted his hands, dripping wet and covered with bubbles.

“You just open your mouth like a baby bird.” Shane picked up a sandwich and held it near Jimmy’s mouth.

And that was beyond ridiculous. But… Jimmy was hungry. And Shane beamed at him, eyes sparkling, even though sitting on the hard tile floor probably hurt.

Jimmy opened his mouth.

The sandwich was very good, piled high with beef that Shane said came from the family ranch, and cheese from his cousin’s dairy, and lots of mayo. “Too bad it’s early for fresh tomatoes. My mom always grows a bunch, and I know how much you like them.” Shane winked.

It took a moment for Jimmy to remember what Shane was talking about, but then he chuckled. “Tomato-free is fine with me.”

Shane ate too, and when the sandwiches were gone, he fetched some potato chips, which he also hand-fed to Jimmy. When he tested the water and discovered it had cooled a bit, he let some drain before refilling with hot and adding fresh bubbles.

“Is it helping?” he asked.

“God, yes. Feels like heaven.”

“Not quite.”

“Oh?”

Instead of answering with words, Shane leaned over, plunged his hand through the layer of foam, and grasped Jimmy’s cock.

Jimmy hadn’t expected that. He gasped and threw his head back hard enough to bash against the edge of the tub. But he barely felt the pain because Shane had already begun to deftly stroke him. The blood rushed to Shane’s groin so quickly he felt dizzy, and his hands sought purchase on the slippery cast iron. “Shane…,” he said hoarsely.

“Shh. Relax.”

Easier said than done, when Shane’s touch made his entire body buzz. Jimmy tried to make his muscles go loose, let himself passively accept what Shane gave him. And Shane didn’t say a word as he stared directly into Jimmy’s eyes. The whole scene was startlingly intimate: the bright bathroom lights, Jimmy naked and vulnerable while Shane remained fully clothed, the quiet splash of water inside and patter of rain outside, the scars on Shane’s face, the intensity of his blue gaze.

The circumstances of Jimmy’s life meant that he often had to give up his dignity and his privacy. But even when he’d slept among dozens of snoring strangers or showered communally—hell, even when he’d fucked someone or allowed someone to fuck him—he’d retained an invisible shell around himself to keep others from getting close. It was almost as if he carried the equivalent of Shane’s camera every day, always objective and observing, even when the activity involved his own body. But this evening he’d set that metaphorical camera aside and the shell had developed hairline cracks. He felt uncomfortable and uneasy. He was a little scared.

But Christ, Shane’s caresses felt so
good
!

A wrinkle of concentration formed between Shane’s eyebrows as he sped his movements. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his wool shirt so they wouldn’t get wet, and his forearms were dusted with light hairs and marked by a few long scars. His skin was pale, which struck Jimmy as wrong. Even at this time of year, he should carry a tan, the scent of grass, and a little dirt under his fingernails and imbedded in the calluses and creases of his palms.

Jimmy’s cock felt raw under Shane’s strokes, almost too tender to bear. His lungs strained and the water was far too warm. He expected to see steam rising from the surface, and he knew precisely how a lobster must feel as the pot heated to boiling.

“Shaaane,” he groaned, arching up with his hips.

Instead of taking pity on him, Shane reached into the tub with his free hand to rub and tweak Jimmy’s nipples. That was too much. Jimmy flopped and came with a muffled roar.

Shane didn’t stop touching him. He moved his hands to Jimmy’s belly and chest, rubbing soothingly until Jimmy stopped shuddering with the aftershocks. And when Jimmy blinked up at him, speechless, Shane grinned like the Cheshire cat. Then he unfolded himself from the floor, wincing in pain and scattering droplets of water.

“I need to get back to work,” he said.

Jimmy saw the outline of Shane’s erection in his jeans. It looked uncomfortable. “But you haven’t—”

“I’m fine. I like to wait, remember?”

“But—”

“Take your time here. You might want to use my shower to rinse off. Just let yourself out when you’re done.”

Jimmy took a deep breath, hoping it would clear his head. “You trust me in here alone?”

“What’re you gonna do? Steal my clothes or the pots and pans I hardly ever use? If you’re that bad off, help yourself.”

Jimmy quirked a small smile.

“You’re a puzzle, Jimmy Dorsett, and my brain’s too scrambled to solve you. I guess I’ll have to take you as I find you.” He didn’t seem upset with this realization, or even resigned—just matter-of-fact.

Jimmy decided to turn the conversation in a more comfortable direction. “
Will
you take me? Later tonight?”

Shane shook his head with a smile. “No. I think we both need our beauty sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow. Thursday is pancake day.”

And then, as if he hadn’t already shocked Jimmy enough, Shane bent low and kissed the top of Jimmy’s head. Then he straightened and limped out of the bathroom and through the apartment. Jimmy heard the door close with a muted thud.

B
ELINDA
WAS
so satisfied with Jimmy’s tiling job that she allowed her face to thaw almost into a smile. “I’ve considered completely redoing the bathroom in 105. My late husband renovated it in the eighties and it never quite recovered. Could you handle a job that big?”

“Depends. I can’t do major plumbing or electrical stuff.”

“But could you install new fixtures—a new sink, new shower, definitely new lights—if we kept them in the same locations?”

“Yeah, sure.”

She nodded, pleased. “Good. I’ll look into ordering your supplies today. I’ll let you know when they’re expected to arrive.”

Fine, except he would be gone. He’d intended to leave that morning, in fact. But Thursday was pancake day. And he’d sort of left Shane hanging the previous night. At the very least, Jimmy owed him a good orgasm. Also, he hadn’t yet done his laundry, and he hated hitting the road with nothing but dirty clothes.

“Is there anything you want done first today?” he asked.

Belinda gave him a long, thoughtful look, her mouth scrunched slightly to the side. Then she sighed. “You put in a long day yesterday. I didn’t intend to work you to death, and there’s nothing urgent this morning. Weekends are always much busier anyway. Take a few hours off. Check in with me after lunch.”

That was unexpected. “Thank you. Um, is there a laundromat in town somewhere?” He wasn’t hopeful—the town was too small, and he hadn’t seen one during his wanderings on Tuesday—but it was worth asking.

“No,” Belinda answered. “And I have the linens done by a commercial service. But there’s a washer and dryer in Shane’s apartment, so you can ask him.”

“I don’t want to inconvenience anyone. He’s done me big favors already.” He was not going to blush, goddammit.

“It’s no inconvenience. And that boy loves to be useful.”

Jimmy refrained from pointing out that Shane was most definitely a man, not a boy. “Okay. Thanks.”

Before he left the lobby, she called to him. He trotted back to the desk, expecting her to have changed her mind about giving him the morning off. But instead, she tossed him a ring of keys. “For the basement. And a master key to all the rooms—but don’t disturb the guests.”

His heart made a funny little hitch at her show of trust. “Yes, ma’am,” he said and pocketed the keys.

With time on his hands, Jimmy decided to get a little exercise. The rain had cleared and the day was beautiful, the sky scrubbed to a bright blue. Mae’s opened early and was busy already, but he didn’t stop there. He walked down the sidewalk instead, past the parking lot from which his Ford had disappeared and past the park where Shane said they showed movies in the summer. At one edge of the park stood a metal statue on a stone pedestal, and the plaque announced that it was Rattlesnake Murray. He had a pair of holsters at his hips, arms crossed on his chest, and a determined look on his face. Jimmy thought he had Shane’s chin, although that might have been his imagination.

After the park came another block of shops, none of which were open yet, and then the road curved uphill through stands of tall evergreens. According to a sign, Chuku Cave lay three miles ahead. Jimmy didn’t intend to walk that far, but he figured this route was as good for a stroll as any other, so he started up the hill. When the road took a sharp right and cleared the woods, though, he came to a sudden halt. He was atop a shallow promontory with a sweeping view across a narrow valley. On the other side of the valley, hills led to steep peaks with a dusting of snow. He was rarely one to admire nature, but this vista was worth admiring. He sat on a large granite boulder, leaned back on his hands, and let his mind wander. Not that he expected it to wander anywhere useful, but he supposed even his consciousness could use a bit of exercise now and then.

As he watched some raptors riding the updrafts and circling over the valley, he remembered a tiny house his mother had rented when he was six or seven, very close to a busy airport. Jets whooshed overhead day and night, shaking the entire house, and his brothers had complained they couldn’t sleep. Jimmy, however, spent his nights on a lumpy mattress on the back porch, and he loved watching the planes. He used to wonder where each one was going, and he promised himself that when he grew up, he would be on one of those planes, zooming off to adventure. He’d broken that promise, though, and somewhere along the line, travel had become a necessity and a burden rather than a dream.

He could hop off the rock, take a few steps, and leap into the air. Not that he was suicidal. But he
could
, and for a few seconds he’d finally experience true freedom. It occurred to him, however, that if he did make his first and final flight, Belinda and Shane would assume he’d skipped town. Belinda might not care—would probably be glad he wasn’t around to further endanger her nephew—but Shane would care. He’d be angry that Jimmy left without saying good-bye.

The idea of being
missed
, even briefly, made Jimmy uneasy.

After a time, he slid off the boulder and walked toward the road rather than the cliff. He followed the downward slope back to town.

His usual waitress showed him to a table. He wasn’t at all surprised when Shane showed up before Jimmy’s coffee was poured. Today he wore a black T-shirt. “Did you sleep well?” Shane asked as he took a seat.

“Yep.”

“You know, Aunt Belinda said something nice about you. Just now, when I walked through the lobby. She said you did a good job. And that you’re polite. Actually, I guess that’s two nice things.”

“Hmm.”

The waitress stepped up to take their orders. Jimmy followed Shane’s lead and ordered pancakes. “Maple syrup or more of those blueberries you like so much?” she asked. “Or I could give you some of each.”

“Some of each sounds good.” Nobody had ever learned Jimmy’s food preferences before. Even his own mother had consistently forgotten—or maybe just refused to acknowledge—that canned green beans made him gag. She bought them in bulk whenever they went on sale cheap, and then she’d serve them for dinner along with ketchup sandwiches on stale bread from the bakery outlet store. Jimmy had to either force the stuff down or go hungry.

“You look like you’re thinking about something nasty,” Shane observed.

“Canned green beans.”

Shane laughed. “Did you steal and overdose on those too?”

“No. I would never steal green beans.” He thought quickly while he poured sugar into his coffee and stirred. “I spent a little time in jail, though. Not for anything important. Just… sometimes that’s where you end up when you’re broke and a stranger. And the sheriff must have got some kind of deal on green beans, because they served them every damn day, lunch and dinner. The rest of the food was pretty skimpy too, so you had to eat the crap or listen to your stomach grumble. That was a long thirty days.” Belatedly, he realized that thirty days was an exaggeration for a vagrancy charge and perhaps he’d spun the story out too far.

Shane gave Jimmy an astute look that lasted for a few beats. Then he relaxed and held up his hand as if he were in court. “I solemnly promise never to give you tomatoes
or
green beans.”

“Thank you.”

Over their pancakes, they chatted about Belinda’s plans for the bathroom in 105 and some of the customers who’d visited the bar the previous night. Later, as they sat with their third cups of coffee, Jimmy remembered his dirty clothes. “Hey, your aunt said you wouldn’t mind if I borrowed your washing machine.”

“Course not. Help yourself. I’ll tell her to give you a key.”

For no fucking reason at all and completely out of the blue, Jimmy’s eyes suddenly filled with hot tears. He squeezed them shut and ducked his head, refusing to let the tears fall.

“You okay?” Shane asked.

“Yeah, I….” Jimmy lurched out of his chair and to the bathroom, which was blessedly unoccupied. Inside, he splashed cold water on his face and silently called himself every foul name he could think of. Only when he was certain he had control of himself did he venture back to the table and Shane.

“Sorry,” he said with a forced smile. “Got something in my eye. Probably dust from that tiling job.”

“Huh. I would have figured the long bath and shower would get rid of all the debris.”

“I guess I’m not a very thorough scrubber.”

Shane smiled crookedly. “Guess next time I’ll have to give you a hand. With the scrubbing, I mean.”

Soon afterward they left the restaurant and walked to the inn. Belinda didn’t even frown when they walked into the lobby together. Then Shane headed off to the bar while Jimmy fetched the tools to deal with a dripping faucet in room 209.