Skipping Stones Read online

  "I'm sorry to disturb you, Leo. I just wanted to tell you that you're welcome to use the studio upstairs, and the supplies, while you're here. I won't be using them."

  He opened his mouth. What did he say to that? "Thank you," he replied. There was no answer and no sound outside the door. It looked like Reed didn't wait for an answer this time.

  Leo found some old jeans and a T-shirt and put them on. They were long in the legs and tight in the waist but they'd do. After putting them on, it suddenly dawned on him that at one time these clothes must have belonged to Reed, especially the pants since they were for a taller man than Mark. The T-shirt was roomy, so that was probably Mark's.

  Great. I'm walking around in Reed Owens's pants.

  When he left the room, he noticed the bathroom door was open. The room looked steamy but the shower wasn't running. He caught a glimpse of Reed, a white towel around his waist. He was shaving with a straight razor.

  Leo poked his head in the door. "Not a lot of men shave with a straight razor anymore," he said, trying not to follow the drop of water slowly making its way down the front of Reed's chest.

  Reed glanced at him in the mirror. "I'm not a lot of men."

  Leo cleared his throat. "No, you're not. I just wanted to thank you for your offer."

  He shrugged. "Not a problem."

  "I kind of lost my... I haven't painted in awhile."

  "A great artist needs inspiration. I hope you find it here." Reed ran his razor under the water and shook the shaving cream off of it.

  The white towel was wrapped snugly around his hips. It framed his round, hard ass just fine. Leo's gaze strayed there and then went back to the mirror. "Well, I'm off to paint the shed."

  "Put on some sunscreen. It's brutal out there. Ask Mark. He has some somewhere."

  "I will, thanks," he said and moved off down the hall. His cock ached and there was no reasonable explanation for it. He took the stairs two at a time, and called out to Mark. God damn that Reed. He was a fucking sorcerer.

  Mark came out into the hallway. "Yeah?"

  "Sunscreen? You got some?"

  "Good idea. I'll bring it out. And don't you look cute in Reed's old pants." He walked off to get the sunscreen while Leo slapped the screen door open and went outside.

  I may be in Reed's pants but... But what...it was too bad Reed wasn't in them?

  He laughed to himself. It was just too funny. Reed was the last guy on this earth he'd ever consider fucking, him and Pierre.

  When Mark brought out the sunscreen, Leo was opening the paint can and laughing to himself.

  "Okay," Mark said, handing him the bottle, "you've bought the farm now?"

  Leo shook his head. "Private joke. I'll be all right. This is a great color."

  "A nice sage," Mark agreed.

  "Reed offered me the art room, you know."

  "He told me he was going to."

  "It was nice of him. I thanked him."

  "Good," Mark said, turning to go. "It will be nice if you two try to get along."

  "How long is he going to be here?" Leo inquired, checking the roller.

  "I have no idea," Mark said.

  Leo watched Mark until he entered the house and then went to get the ladder.

  * * * *

  Leo spent the next few days scraping the shed. It was in much worse shape than Mark had let on. Reed seemed to be avoiding him. He spent his time reading in his room and going off by himself, jogging or biking. That was fine with Leo. He'd almost forgotten he was around. Finally he got to the point where he was able to apply the color.

  Even with house paint, Leo loved the velvety texture of it and the way it glistened when it was wet, covering the old and making it brand new with its intensity. He was so into it, he didn't realize he had a spectator.

  "You missed a spot," a voice said, a smooth deep male voice he knew right away belonged to Reed. He reminded himself to be nice.

  "Where?" He squinted in the sun, glancing over at him.

  Reed leaned against an old birch tree, his well muscled arms across his chest. He wore a pair of blue shorts and a white cut off T-shirt. He had an almost devilish look on his face that made Leo kind of suspicious of his intentions.

  As Reed pushed away from the tree and came forward, he adjusted the dark sunglasses on his face. "Right there." He pointed.

  Leo glanced up to the top of the shed. "Where? I don't see it," he replied, turning back. And as he did, Reed ran a narrow paintbrush right down the middle of his face.

  Leo's eyes widened.

  The grin on Reed's face widened as well. "Right there," he said softly, then he put down the paintbrush and laughed.

  "I can't believe you..." But it was funny, and as angry as he wanted to be, he began to sputter and then laugh, too. "Did you just put paint on my face?"

  "Yeah." He nodded nonchalantly. "You did a good job," he commented casually, and then began to walk away as Leo just stood there aghast. "Don't worry," he added, "it's latex."

  "I will seek revenge," Leo called out as Reed headed across the field, walking down to the lake.

  "I'm counting on it," he called back. "And by the way, how does it feel being in my pants?" He laughed loudly but didn't look back.

  Leo made a face, shook his head, and looked for a rag. He tried to wipe some of the paint off but suspected he was making it worse.

  "Good Lord!" Mark exclaimed when Leo came into the house. He began to laugh. "You were supposed to paint the shed, not your face."

  "Don't say anything. Why didn't you warn me that Reed was like that?"

  "Warn you that Reed was like what?"

  "He did this to me."

  Mark looked surprised. "Well, I know he can be a bit of a devil sometimes but...I'm surprised."

  "He enjoyed it, too." Leo muttered. "I'm going to take a shower."

  "Good idea."

  Chapter 2

  * * *

  Mark was really happy to have Leo here with him. He'd missed him like crazy and had been worried about him when he was in France, out of money, and depressed over Pierre. He was relieved to have him here safe and sound, but although he'd never mention it to Leo, the timing couldn't have been worse. He'd been after Reed to come home for months. And now that he finally had, Leo was here. Not that it would have made any difference.

  Reed was being impossible as usual, sleeping in the spare room, even locking it at night so that he couldn't get in.

  "Mark, stop it," Reed had told him the night he'd come home. "Why do you insist on doing this?"

  "If you'd only give it a chance," Mark had pleaded. "Please, Reed baby, I love you. Is the thought of fucking me that obnoxious to you?"

  "Is that really all you want, for me to fuck you?" Reed had asked. He pulled his sweatshirt over his head and threw up his hands. He never raised his voice. That wasn't Reed's style, but Mark knew he was pissed off. "Don't you want more than this, Mark? Don't you want passion and desire, a man who gets hard just thinking about you?"

  "I want you." Mark moaned. "I love you."

  Reed shook his head. He walked to the door. "I can't, Mark. Don't ask me, okay? I care too much about you to do this to you. I won't do this."

  "You still blame me for what happened," Mark told him, miserably. "You hate me for that."

  "I don't hate you," Reed said. "I forgave you long ago."

  "If it was him, you'd..."

  "Stop it, Mark. I'm warning you." He glanced at him. "You promised we'd never talk about him again. If you do, I swear, I'll leave here and I'll never come back."

  The door closed. Mark tightened his hands into fists at his sides. There was nothing more painful than having him down the hall, knowing he was this close and yet so far away. He'd been home now for over two weeks, and that door had stayed locked every night.

  Reed was sitting outside on the balcony, looking out at the water, his feet up on the railing. The writer, Adrian White, was in a rowboat with his life jacket on, not far from the shore.

&
nbsp; "I think he'd live here if he could," Mark said, indicating Adrian in the boat.

  "Yeah. I spoke to him earlier. He said he wants to stay another month. He's experiencing writer's block."

  "Um." He reached out and caressed Reed's hair. He didn't say anything but Mark had the feeling he wouldn't let it go on too long. Mark withdrew his hand. "Leo told me you painted his face."

  Reed lowered his legs. He glanced at him. "It was a joke."

  "Leo doesn't really like you."

  "I know that."

  "It's my fault."

  "I know that, too." He stood. "Hungry?"

  "Yeah. You cooking?"

  "I'll do steak on the barbeque if you make those stuffed potatoes I like."

  Mark smiled at him. "You got a deal."

  * * * *

  Leo came downstairs to the smell of cooking and hurried to the kitchen. He leaned on the counter watching Mark as he mashed the potatoes with sour cream and shallots and then stuffed them back into the potato skins. "Reed loves these."

  "Looks great. You put cheese on them, too?"

  "Yeah. You can grate some if you want. Cheese is in the fridge. Reed is grilling the steaks."

  "You want a salad?"

  "I chopped up the stuff. I need to make the dressing, oil and vinegar."

  "I can do that," Leo volunteered.

  As Leo began to grate the cheese, Mark put the potatoes back into the oven on a tray. Suddenly some heavy metal music began to drift in from outside and Mark moaned. "Oh no, Reed. Come on, classical!"

  Leo sniggered. "That's good music."

  "It's not dinner music. Oh shit, we need to go down to the wine cellar."

  "I'll go," Leo said. "Where is it?"

  "Take the door through the kitchen on the way outside. You can't miss it. Light is on the side of the wall. Get merlot."

  "Okay."

  Leo found the door right away and switched on the light. He carefully descended the stairs and found a small room with rows and rows of wine bottles. "Merlot?" he said out loud. "Where is that?"

  Suddenly, he heard footsteps. "Mark, good, I can't find the..." He paused to see Reed appear in the doorway.

  "Ah, we must have had the same idea. I didn't know Mark sent you down here to get the wine."

  "I, ah...can't find it anyway," he said, suddenly feeling a little claustrophobic.

  "The merlot is over here," Reed said, brushing past him to walk down to the end of the wall. "My father used to have a restaurant here, and he loved wine." He took out a bottle and handed it to him.

  Leo accepted it and studied the label.

  "I came down here as a teenager and spent hours reading the labels."

  Leo narrowed his eyes. "Seems like an odd thing for a teenager to do."

  "Not really." He laughed. "I used to love to drink wine, even back then, but my father wouldn't let me drink too much until I was an adult. He did let me reorder the stock, however."

  "Ah ha...I sense a scam," Leo accused.

  "Dad kept precise track of all the bottles of wine he used, so by memorizing the labels, I could fudge the order a bit. Needless to say, there was always an extra bottle that Dad never missed. I was particularly fond of merlot."

  Leo ran his gaze over him. Reed leaned back against the wall, his head turned to one side, as if he was lost in the memory of his youth. "I lost my virginity down here."

  The words came softly, almost reverently. Leo had a hard time taking his eyes off of the man, although he knew he should. His gaze followed the line of the jaw to Reed's throat, the place his shirt laid open on his chest, then back to his lips. He had the most incredible mouth.

  "Really?" Leo replied, his mouth going dry. "Here among the wine bottles." He tightened his fingers around the bottle.

  He found it hard to breathe when finally Reed met his gaze. "He was about the age I am now, twenty-seven or twenty-eight and he had the most incredible eyes."

  "How old were you?"

  "Fifteen. And I was ready. I was so ready. He was a guest, a well-known athlete who shall remain nameless."

  "Were you scared?" Leo asked him, leaning against the wall as well. He found his head falling in Reed's direction, their faces close together.

  "No," he murmured. "I was too damn horny to be scared. He was so beautiful. I came before he even touched me."

  "I bet he thought that, too."

  "You bet he thought what?"

  "That you were beautiful."

  Reed picked his head off the wall suddenly and laughed. "Why, Leo, I didn't know you cared."

  He was teasing him, and Leo straightened up and cleared his throat. "Well, he must have thought you were something to risk his reputation. You were just a kid."

  "I don't think I was ever a kid." He grinned. "Except maybe in actual years. I was the only child and I grew up fast. My parents didn't indulge me much. They pushed me, treated me like an adult. I just didn't have much time to be a kid." Reed rested his head against the wall again, his face turned in Leo's direction.

  "Do you regret not having a childhood?" Leo leaned his shoulder against the wall.

  "No." Reed reached out and touched Leo's cheek, his voice soft and compelling. "I try not to regret anything."

  It was completely unexpected. His fingers lingered on his cheek, and Leo felt flushed as he melted into those eyes. His mouth gravitated toward Reed's, his gaze caressing his lips. It seemed like a dream. He was so close to those lips, he could feel Reed's breath. Then a warning bell clanged in his head.

  He drew back abruptly, stiffened. What in fuck am I doing?

  Reed dropped his hand from Leo's cheek. He smiled and brushed past him. "I better get upstairs before my steaks burn."

  Leo didn't move. He heard Reed's footsteps climb the stairs and he came close to dropping the wine bottle on the floor. He had no idea what to make of that man. He wasn't sure what Reed's game was, or if he was even playing a game. He did know, however, that every time Reed Owens came within ten feet of him, his heart hammered in his chest like a drum. And that...well...that wasn't good.

  * * * *

  The steaks were great, although a little overdone, according to Mark. Everything was delicious. And Reed ended up going downstairs for another bottle of wine before they were halfway through dinner.

  Mark had taken the chocolate cheesecake out of the freezer, and they drank more wine while they waited for it to defrost.

  "Forgive me," Mark said, looking at Reed. "I really forgot to take the cake out." He giggled a little, which was a sign that Mark was drunk, and said something about the cheesecake not wanting to be eaten.

  Reed raised an eyebrow, and Leo laughed out loud. He wasn't feeling any pain either, although he was considerably less gone than Mark, who was trying to squeeze the last drop of the red wine out of the bottle.

  "If you pound on the bottom," Leo grinned, "you might get another drop or two."

  "Very funny," Leo mocked. "There is a solution." He glanced at Reed who sat back in his chair, a half drunk glass in his hand.

  "Which is?" Reed asked with a faint smile on his lips, lips now moist with wine.

  Leo found himself thinking about tasting those lips, saturated with wine or something else--come, his come. As Reed gave Mark several reasons why he shouldn't drink any more wine, Leo wondered if Reed was good at sucking cock. Mark had said he was good in bed. Leo didn't doubt that somehow. A guy who looked that good certainly had had plenty of opportunity for practice.

  Reed stood. "Okay, Mark, I'll go down and get you another bottle, but don't blame me if you're sick."

  "Stop being my husband," Mark muttered, attempting to struggle to his feet. "And I can go get the wine. You don't need to come with..."

  Reed placed a hand on Mark's shoulder and pushed him back down in the chair. "You'll fall down the stairs and break your neck in that shape. I'll get it."

  Leo watched him go and then studied Mark. He was really sloshed and probably another drink would put him under the table. He
'd drunk too much himself, which was definitely responsible for his bizarre thoughts concerning Reed's mouth a few minutes ago.

  Leo reached over and squeezed Mark's hand. "You okay?"

  He pulled it away. "Why shouldn't I be fucking okay?"

  Leo lifted his hands in the air. "Okay." He knew how Mark could get if he got really drunk, and he suspected by the hesitant look on Reed's face as he placed the fresh bottle on the table, that he did as well.

  "Where's the corkscrew?" Mark muttered.

  "I'll open it," Reed volunteered. "You want another glass, Leo?" He placed the corkscrew in the bottle and proceeded to open it.

  "No. I think I've had enough, thanks," he replied.

  "So you're going to let me drink alone," Mark accused, looking at Leo.

  "Mark, I've had enough." Leo laughed. "You know my limit."

  "Yeah, you might go crazy and jump Reed."

  There was absolute silence.

  Leo's eyes widened.

  Reed reacted in the way he usually did, with very little alteration in expression. He just glanced at Mark then at Leo. "See what I mean?"

  "What?" Mark asked, taking a sip of the wine Reed had just poured him. "We're all adults here. I'm only stating the obvious."

  Leo was getting uncomfortable. "Mark, knock it off." He was embarrassed as well. And Reed just sat there looking at him. "Don't help me," he threw at Reed.

  Reed shrugged. "I can't do anything with him when he gets like this. Don't pay attention."

  "Yeah, ignore me," Mark muttered. "Reed is a champion at it, aren't you, baby?"

  "Drink your wine, Mark," he said quietly. "You know, I was actually enjoying your company tonight until this. Leo is your guest. Don't make a fool of yourself."

  "Fuck you, Reed. Mr. High and Mighty everyone wants your ass. And do you think Leo is any different?"

  Leo cleared his throat. "Mark, stop it. I have no interest in Reed." Even as he said it, it didn't ring true. He risked a glance at Reed. His expression hadn't changed. He just looked disgusted with Mark.

  Reed got up from the table. "I'm going to bed," he announced. "I'll clean up in the morning."