“You didn’t. I mean, I always worry about you, and that’s not your fault, but Sid, there’s nothingaround hereyouneed to worry about more than yourself. That’s why Benjamin hired Dante—so you wouldn’t get yourself in a state about things you’re too tired to do. Lean on him. I get the feeling he won’t mind.”
“Why do you think that?”
Anna shrugged. “Just a vibe. Along with being sinfully gorgeous, he waswaynicer than I thought he’d be, especially considering he’s probably spent the whole time he’d been here dealing with your shattitude.”
“Shattitude? Really? Did Mitch teach you that?”
“If you like.” Anna rolled her eyes.
Sid frowned, half-convinced he was missing something but too distracted by thoughts of Dante to figure it out. “You still owe me dinner.”
“The dinneryouwere going to cookme, you mean.”
“I’ll cook you dinner right now if you want.”
Anna’s gaze narrowed. “No chance. I’m only letting you do the deadheading because I know you’ll be out here the second I’m gone otherwise, doing a thousand other things when you should be resting.”
“I’m bored of resting.”
“Good. It means it’s working.”
Sid had a stubborn streak a mile wide, but Anna’s was wider. They stared each other down for a protracted beat. Then he caved and went back to hobbling around his pots until she’d deemed he’d had enough vitamin D and ushered him back inside.
Belying his protests that he’d rested enough, he fell asleep almost immediately, whacked out on the couch with his boots still on. When he woke, Anna had relieved him of his boots and left him a note.
I told Benjamin you could go back to work on Monday, but no lifting, andlots of breaks. Use Dante—he won’t mindxx
Christ. Sid was recovered enough to see the innuendo, whether she’d meant it that way or not. Shaking his head, he heaved himself off the sofa and into the shower. The weather had cooled enough in recent days that he could run the water hot and enjoy the sensation as it pummelled his muscles and bones. Eyes closed, he stood beneath the spray and let himself drift, enjoying the clarity the heavy brain fog had left behind.
As had become a bad habit since Dante had arrived, Sid’s thoughts swirled around him, chasing down the last time he could clearly recall seeing him and purposely avoiding the points in time heknewDante had been with him, but he’d rather forget.“Sleep now, mate. I’ll be back, I promise.”
But Dante hadn’t come back... had he? Despite his best efforts not to, Sid picked through patchy memories of pain and confusion to the rare, sweet moments he’d felt some relief. The dreams he’d had of gentle hands on his blazing skin, soft fingers in his hair. Dreams of a life he craved when he allowed himself to think beyond getting through the day.It wasn’t real. Maybe next time you’ll get lucky and have nightmares instead.
Sid growled under his breath and dragged his imagination back to fantasyland, picturing Dante outside in the gardens, the sun on his back as he worked the earth, bottom lip caught in his teeth, an earnest frown creasing his natural stone face.God, he’s gorgeous.And he was good company too. After a month in each other’s pockets, Sid had missed him.
Still missed him.
Stillwantedhim.
Stop it. Sid braced himself on the tiles and let his head hang low, as if gravity would pull all thoughts of Dantelike thatout of his brain.
It didn’t, though, and he lacked the will to fight them as his lips began to tingle, remembering Dante’s kiss. A shiver racked Sid, but for once, the good kind, and he rolled with it, pretending, just for a moment, that this was okay. That kissing Dante had been a ride for both of them and not a terrible mistake he’d yet to put right.
Man, his lips. Sid couldtastethem and feel Dante’s rough jaw against his own. Arousal burnt bright in his gut, hot and sweet. His hand travelled south, grazing his slick skin and trembling abs. Maybe the first time hadn’t been a one-off. Maybe, just maybe, Dante was the cure Sid had sought since his dick had gone AWOL two long years ago. But when he looked down, his cock hadn’t got the memo to come home for the summer, and defeat washed over Sid, cold and depressing.
Give it a break. You just had a relapse.
Whatever.
Sighing, Sid turned the shower off and padded to his bedroom for the clothes someone—Anna? Rhonda?—had washed for him and left neatly folded on his chest of drawers. He thumbed through T-shirts like he gave a shit until he came to one that was faded red and cut off at the sleeves.This isn’t mine... is it?
It wasn’t. And the sight of it, when it clicked, took him right back to the place he’d fled the shower to escape.
Dante.Sid resisted the urge to bring the shirt to his face and sniff it, but barely, and resistance sparked a restlessness that merged with the cabin fever he’d accumulated from his week indoors. He refolded the T-shirt from the ball he’d unconsciously scrunched it into and left the bedroom in search of his boots before remembering he’d forgotten the rest of his clothes.
Master of Disaster strikes again.
Sid dressed in shorts, a T-shirt of his own, and his boots, and left the bungalow with his weed tin and Dante’s T-shirt tucked in his pockets. Dante’s bungalow was fifty feet away, a fact Sid recalled often when he was alone at night and his thoughts made sense enough for him to wonder why he hadn’t been there since Dante had moved in.Because he’s always with you. You’ve never had to go looking for him before.