Moira was pretty, and a grad student at USF.
And single.
Holding back his heart wasn’t easy. Moira was patient and kind and loved his peach cobbler. She also acted like she loved him. It felt right asking her to marry him. It’s what people did, wasn’t it? Even if he held back, kept up the wall, refused to let go. That had obviously been his mistake in the past, giving too much.
And that mistake he would not repeat.
* * * *
Tyler stared out the window at the channel. Bob loved the restaurant on Harbor Island because they served fantastic Cuban food.
As they talked, Bob jotted notes on the yellow legal pad on the table in front of him. The waitress took their order and walked away.
“Alimony?” Bob asked.
Tyler shook his head as he stared at the water. “No,” he quietly said. “She said she doesn’t want any. Or rights to the book earnings. I want to give her a lump sum payment, though. Something to get her started again.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know I don’t. I want to.” He knew it didn’t make up for the pain he’d caused her. It wasn’t her fault. She was a good woman, a kind woman. It wasn’t her fault.
His anger.
His impenetrable wall.
He didn’t blame her when she came to him, crying, begging for him to go to counseling with her, to try to break through that iron-clad shell he’d carefully cultivated and maintained.
It wasn’t her fault he didn’t know how to dismantle it.
It wasn’t her fault she wasn’t dominant enough for him.
It wasn’t fair to keep her shackled to him when she had her life ahead of her.
Bob reached across the table and touched his hand. “Are you okay?”
“No.” He took another sip of his drink. Eddie had dropped him off and would pick him up when they finished. He’d moved in with them temporarily until he could find another place. “She can have the house. It’s paid for. She should have it. It’s only right.”
His advance on the second book had paid for the small house east of the USF Tampa campus. It wasn’t fancy or new or large or even pretty, but she’d liked it, had picked it out when he insisted she go house shopping. Bob had just gone over the contract his agent sent for the fourth book. It would go out in the mail tomorrow. The third book was in edits now and would be released next year. He was still expecting a third of the advance from that. He could use the advance from his fourth book for a down payment on a condo.
“Did you try counseling?”
“It wouldn’t matter, mate.” He tossed back the rest of his drink and held the glass up to the waitress for a refill. “It’s not her, it’s me. I’d only keep making her miserable.”
Bob studied him. “What did Marcus do to you?” he softly asked.
Tyler’s eyes grew hard and cold. “He taught me a few valuable lessons. Lessons I won’t soon forget.”
Chapter Eleven
Immersed in his studies, Tommy didn’t hear Kenny’s teasing comment at first. “Hey, Tommy. Come up for air.”
He looked up. “What?”
Kenny smiled. “Break time. Why don’t you come over to St. Pete with us this afternoon?”
He sat up and stretched his back, wincing as it popped. “What’s going on over there?”
“Professor Paulson’s doing an author talk and book signing over at Haslam’s. A bunch of us are going over. You like his stuff, don’t you?”
Heck yeah, he did. He’d eagerly devoured both of Tyler Paulson’s currently released full-length novels, as well as his short story anthology. The man was a great writer. “Yeah.”
“You never had him, did you?”
Tommy blushed. “No, I was never in any of his classes.” But the author pics that stared at him from the book jackets, those intense blue eyes, he wouldn’t mind “having” the man, that’s for damn sure. He’d also heard the campus gossip, that the man had just lost his ass in divorce number two, so there was no way in hell that fantasy would ever come true.
Kenny glanced at his phone when it rang, then silenced it. “Shelly said you and Karina are quits, huh?”
He stood, grabbed his mug, and walked to the kitchen for more coffee. “Yeah. I broke it off last night.”
He noticed Kenny looked a little nervous. “Shelly told me Karina said some pretty mean things about you.”
He hesitated, but shrugged. “I can’t control that.”
“Look, dude, it’s none of my business. It doesn’t bother me no matter what because you’re my friend and I respect you. I’m here if you need an ear.”
Tommy leaned over the counter and looked at Kenny. “I don’t know. Okay? I. Don’t. Know. I was attracted to her. She was beautiful. She was great in bed. I just couldn’t see myself spending my life with her. I didn’t want to waste her time and mine when I’ve got work and classes. That’s the story.”
“She’s going to go around saying you’re gay.”
“Let her say whatever the fuck she wants to say. I don’t give a shit.”
“Are you?”
“Jesus, Ken! What the fuck?”
Kenny didn’t answer, simply stared at him as if waiting him out.
Tommy returned to his seat at the table. “I don’t know. Some girls I like, some girls I don’t. Some guys I like, some guys I don’t. Bottom line, I haven’t found anyone—guy or girl—who really floats my boat in a life-altering way. Okay?”
Kenny finally smiled. “So I should broaden my horizons when I’m trying to fix you up? Why the hell didn’t you say so sooner?”
Tommy laughed. “You are so gonna bust my balls, aren’t you?”
“Only a little.” He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. “I’ve got a cousin who lives over in Clearwater. Shelly thinks he’s hot. I think he’s single.”
Tommy rolled his eyes. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
“So are you in?”
“I just said—”
“For this afternoon. Haslam’s. Paulson’s author talk. Dude, focus.”
“Oh.” He looked at his papers on the table. He was actually caught up, truth be told. It wouldn’t hurt to relax a little. Especially if it meant he could finally see Tyler Paulson in person. “Okay. What time? I’ll meet you guys over there.”
* * * *
When they walked into Haslam’s, Tommy’s gaze immediately settled on Tyler Paulson. The author stood behind the front counter, talking with a store employee. Tommy couldn’t take his gaze off the man. His intense blue eyes seemed to find and follow him no matter where he was in the room. He tried to browse the stacks before the talk, but found himself scanning the store, looking for a glimpse of Paulson. During Paulson’s talk, Tommy stood in the back of the room, where he had an unobstructed view of the author. He held the books he planned on purchasing and listened, enthralled.
Enthralled was a good description. Paulson’s smooth British accent didn’t sound the least bit snooty. He displayed an easy sense of humor that kept the audience laughing.
When he finished reading an excerpt from his latest book, Paulson took questions from the audience. Tommy knew it had to be his imagination, but no matter what, Paulson’s eyes always seemed to fall on him regardless of who the man was talking to.
He felt his throat go dry.
Then a student sitting near the front of the audience raised her hand and Paulson called on her. “Are you single, Professor Paulson?”
He smiled, his gaze once again falling on Tommy, intense, never blinking. “As of now, but I’m looking for a good woman…or man…to settle down with.”
Laughter and more than a few hopeful sighs, male and female, rippled through the audience. As Paulson’s gaze lingered on him, Tommy felt his erection suddenly strain for freedom.
He blushed and shifted his books in front of him to hide his growing bulge.
* * * *
Tyler enjoyed the local author appearances more than he did the out-of-
town ones. Travel annoyed him, and it was nice being able to go home later and relax.
He was chatting with the store manager before his talk when more people entered the bookstore. One man in particular caught his eye. Tyler focused so as not to lose his concentration. The tall, brown-haired man walked in with a group of most likely students, if forced to guess, but he didn’t appear to be there with any of the girls. He seemed at ease, and his friendly, open smile made Tyler’s heart thump in a pleasant way.
How can I meet him?
He silently chided himself. Just because he was interested in someone, especially someone as handsome as the brown-eyed stranger, didn’t mean the man would be interested in him.
Long and lanky, well tanned but looking like it stemmed from hard work, not from idle beach sitting. Tyler couldn’t get alone long enough to approach him.
Then he smiled as a possible plan formed. Even if the question wasn’t asked outright, he could work his preferences into his talk to the audience. Put out a hint and pray for a miracle. He would quit waiting for happiness to strike him in the head and seek it out on his own.
The miracle came during the Q and A when a perky little tart not so subtly asked about his single status.
Tyler knew exactly where the handsome man was standing because he hadn’t been able to take his eyes from him for more than a moment or two.
He looked at him, paused, and prayed it would work.
“As of now, but I’m looking for a good woman…or man…to settle down with.”
The audience laughed. The man suddenly shifted the books in his hands from his side to in front of him. Tyler hoped he stifled his pleased smile.
Perfect.
* * * *
Tommy hung back at the end of the line, waiting to get his books signed. He didn’t know what he’d say, or even if Paulson would be the least bit interested in a broke grad student, but he knew he had to talk to him after hearing that comment. He let people cut in front of him. Still, every time he looked, Paulson’s gaze was never a moment or two from focusing directly on him again.
Buying two new copies of Paulson’s books would be a hit to his budget, but it’d be worth it for the pristine, autographed copies.
After nearly an hour the crowd thinned. Tommy finally got his chance.
Standing this close, Paulson’s blue eyes looked even deeper and more intense, twisting his insides in a good way. “I love your books, Professor Paulson.”
Paulson smiled. “Please, call me Tyler.”
Tommy licked his lips. “Tyler. Thanks.”
Tyler pointed to the books he held. “Would you like me to autograph those for you?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah, thanks.” He slid them across the table. “I’ve already read them. I wanted new copies for the signatures.”
“I’m flattered.” He opened the first one. “To whom should I make it?”
“Um, Thomas. Tom.” He laughed. “Tom Kinsey.” He held out his hand without thinking. Stupid, stupid, you look like a moron.
But Tyler broadly beamed. “Very nice to meet you, Thomas. Or do you prefer Tom?”
He swallowed hard as Tyler’s hand gripped his. Firm, smooth, not at all wishy-washy. “Call me Tommy,” he said. “My friends call me Tommy.”
Tyler didn’t let go. “May I ask you something, Tommy?”
He nodded.
“I don’t have any plans for the afternoon. Would you mind terribly if I bought you a cup of coffee?”
He felt his breath catch in his throat. “That’d be great. I’d love it.”
* * * *
Tommy quickly bid his friends good-bye without telling them where he was going and drove a few blocks away to the coffee shop. He nervously waited, tapping his fingers on the table, afraid Paulson would change his mind and not show.
Tyler, he corrected himself. Tyler.
What a fucking cliché, but he’d never felt like this about anyone. Why was this guy so different? He closed his eyes and conjured Tyler’s blue gaze. Dammit, like he ripped his soul open and saw right through him. He wasn’t sure how tall Tyler was because, when he’d been close, Tyler had been sitting down. Probably just a little shorter than him.
He blushed and looked out the window. Jesus, that was rushing things just a tad. Thinking about how the man’s body would feel…
An older but nicely kept Toyota sedan pulled into the parking lot. When Tyler stepped out, Tommy felt his throat go dry. Tyler seemed to find him through the coffee shop window, his eyes on him as he walked through the door and inside.
Tommy stood when Tyler approached. “Hi.”
Tyler smiled. Tommy wasn’t sure whether to shake hands or hug or drop to his knees and throw his arms around his hips and beg him to fuck him right there.
Jesus!
Tyler shook hands with him, but also touched his arm with his free hand, giving a gentle squeeze to his bicep before releasing him and sitting across the table.
“Thank you for meeting with me, Tommy.”
He sat and nodded. “Thank you.”
Tyler smiled and leaned in close, dropped his voice. “How did you enjoy the presentation this afternoon?”
“You’re great. I love your stuff.”
The waitress interrupted them for their order. When she stepped away, Tyler winked. “Glad to see I had your interest.”
He blushed, but didn’t look away from Tyler’s gaze. “You definitely have that.”
“May I be bold and honest, Tommy?”
He nodded.
Tyler’s smile broadened as he lowered his voice even more. “I noticed you the moment you walked in. Would it be too forward of me to ask if you’re single?”
He swallowed hard. “No. I mean, no, it wouldn’t.” He winced, closed his eyes, and silently swore. “I mean, yes, I’m single, and no, it’s not too forward to ask.” He groaned. “I’m sorry. I’m not normally a moron. I’m usually halfway smart.”
He opened his eyes when Tyler reached across the table and squeezed his hand. The man smiled. “I’m glad to hear that. That you’re single, I mean.” Tyler left his hand covering Tommy’s. “I hope you aren’t in any rush to leave. I’d love to talk with you. Get to know you better.”
He forced himself to take a deep breath, get some oxygen to his brain. Maybe that would help him think straight. “Yeah. I mean, no.” He closed his eyes again. Fuck! “No, I’m not in a rush to leave. Yes, I’d love to talk with you, too.”
Tyler forced himself not to laugh. Tommy was so sweet and obviously nervous. Honest.
Real.
A far cry from…
He forced himself not to think the man’s name. He’d given him more than enough rent-free space in his head over the past couple of years.
More than four hours later, they’d both drank gallons of coffee, exchanged phone numbers and e-mail addresses, and agreed to talk the next day on the phone. Tommy’s soft drawl was a result of his Savannah upbringing, and he was a grad student. Architect. Just four years younger than him, but with a mature air about him. He loved hockey, missed his father terribly, and most importantly, he wasn’t trying to brag or boast or impress Tyler.
Tyler reluctantly glanced at his watch. “I really hate to say this, but I’ve had a rather long day and I’m knackered.” He reached across the table again and squeezed Tommy’s hand. “I will call you tomorrow. Any plans?”
“No, I’m free all day.”
Tyler smiled. “Maybe I can take care of that for you.”
* * * *
Tyler did what he always did when he was stuck in a predicament like this.
Who was he kidding? He’d never been in a predicament like this. When Tyler called Pete that Sunday morning, he hoped his friend was awake and had his coffee already.
“Pete? Can I ask you a question, mate?”
“I think you just did,” the other man grumbled, “but go ahead.”
Tyler resisted the urge to shoot back with a snarky comment. “You watch hockey, don’t you??
??
Pete’s cautious tone made Tyler silently swear. “Yeah? Why?”
“Do you know anything about the game?”
“Um, yeah. Again, why?”
“If I wanted to get tickets to a local game, what would I do?”
“To see the Lightning?”
“Yes.”
Pete tried to disguise his laughter behind a coughing attack, but it didn’t work. “Ty, what the fuck?”
“I met someone yesterday I’d like to take to hockey.”
Pete laughed. “This new guy of yours a puckhead?”
“A what?”
Pete laughed out loud. “Oh, geez, you’ve got it bad. Look up the Tampa Bay Lightning’s ticket office number. Order tickets. They play downtown in the Forum. You do know where that is, don’t you?”
“Yes. Of course I do. I think.”
“We were down there last Fourth of July.”
“Oh!” Now he did remember. “The big, round, glassed-in building with that funny lightning sculpture in front?”
Another hoarse round of laughter. “Yeah. That.”
“Brilliant!” He started to say good-bye when he realized he had another question. “Um, what do I ask for?”
“Tickets.”
“Where? I want good seats. What is considered good?”
“Good grief, this guy better be worth it, buddy. See if you can get down low, a few rows up from the glass near center ice. The lower, the better, to impress him, and avoid the end zones if you can. Depending on how many bucks you wanna spend, see if club level seats at center ice are available. Or a box. Whatever you do, don’t get the cheap-ass nosebleed seats. If you can’t get good seats, you’re better off trying to buy from a scalper when you get there.”
“A box? What’s that? Is it expensive?”
“Depends on your AmEx card balance. Good luck.”
Ty hung up, looked up the phone number, and made the call. Luckily, there was a game that very evening. The man on the other end sounded patient, helpful, and obviously amused at Ty’s naiveté.
Box seats were available, and they’d cost him.