Page 28

The directness of the question caught Chuck off guard. “I told you before—I like building things. Creating something instead of tearing it down for once.”

“Is that all?”

Chuck met Niall’s gaze. “Of course not. How could that be all?”

Chuck set the pencil down before his hand could give him away. Neither of them filled the silence.

“I like you.” He shrugged. “I like Winnie. I like being around you both. Is that so hard to believe?”

“Kind of, yeah.” Niall’s honesty was disarming. “Nobody just… helps like this. Never. Not without wanting something in return.”

“Maybe I do want something,” Chuck admitted. “But not what you’re thinking.”

“What am I thinking?”

“That I’m trying to get in your pants.” Chuck held up a hand when Niall started to protest. “I mean, I think you’re intensely sexy. But that’s not why I’m building a treehouse for your kid or patching your shingles.”

“Then why?”

Chuck hesitated. “Because you seemed tired. That first day, when I wandered in and that madwoman showed up to scam you and you were so friendly that you carefully helped her steal one of your books.”

“She didn’t steal—”

“Then because your daughter loves books and deserves a cool place to read them. Because you’re fighting like hell to keep the store afloat on your own, and I know what it’s like to pour yourself into something that matters to you. I know you. I see you.”

He took a breath, surprised by his own vehemence. “I was rotten to your mom. And maybe because when I’m fixing things for you, I feel like I’m fixing something in myself too. I don’t know. That sounds stupid.”

“It doesn’t,” Niall murmured to his laced fingers. “It sounds… real.”

Niall held his gaze a beat too long, and neither could pretend the treehouse had anything to do with it anymore.

“I should go.” The last thing he wanted. “Early start tomorrow if we want to get that trunk built.”

Niall nodded, but neither of them stood. The kitchen was quiet except for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the wind outside.

“Or,” Niall threw it out there, “you could stay for another beer.”

Chuck smiled, relief and anticipation pouring through him. “I could do that.”

“I’m not very good at this,” Niall admitted during a lull in the conversation. “Dating, or whatever this is. It’s been a long time.”

Chuck shifted closer, knee to Niall’s knee, then shoulder to shoulder, watching to see if Niall pulled away. He didn’t.

“This isn’t all smooth like I planned.” Niall set his beer down on the coffee table and turned to face him. “But I really have got to kiss you now. Properly this time? If you’re okay with that, I mean if you—”

Chuck didn’t wait, but leaned forward and brought their lips together seeking that searing sweetness he’d been obsessing about since the truck last night.

“Oh,” Niall managed as they parted briefly before coming together again. He wrapped his arms around Chuck, and the kisses got harder, more demanding. Niall made a small sound in the back of his throat, somewhere between surprise and pleasure, and Chuck deepened the kiss in response. Nothing like the brief, careful one they’d shared in the truck. This was slow and deliberate, a thorough exploration of their bodies together.

Chuck paused and stroked his cheek. “I wanted you so badly. I had to jerk off twice before I came over here. Just to keep it together while I looked at you tonight.”

Niall nodded, his eyes darkening. “No comment.”

Chuck cupped Niall’s jaw and felt the slight roughness of evening stubble against his palm. He licked Niall’s mouth.

Niall tasted like beer and noodles, and Chuck found himself wanting more, wanting everything. He gathered Niall into his arms and rolled him back onto the couch, sucking and biting at him like a hungry animal.

When they broke apart, both breathless and wobbly, Niall swayed, his lips reddened.