Getting to his feet, Michel quickly slipped through the room's sliding door and onto the back deck. Raul followed him. The human rested his own glass of whiskey on the railing and tapped the glass with his forefinger. "You sure about Jason?"
Michel shook his head at the quiet question. "Not one hundred percent," he admitted. "I only caught a whiff of his scent in the house. It was the smell on the bag that really got me attention. If someone else has used that bag recently, I suppose I could be out of luck."
"I'm sorry if I seemed upset," Raul said, sighing. "I still need to call Brianna and let her know he's here. I don't really relish that conversation."
"Any family problems I should be aware of?" Michel asked.
Swallowing another mouthful of whiskey, Michel waited as Raul seemed to think about how to answer, if the way he took a sip of alcohol and rolled the mouthful around his tongue before swallowing was any indicator. Michel knew he was being nosy, but he needed information so he could woo his mate, and he sure as hell wasn't above pumping his mate's uncle to get it.
"His mother Brianna flipped out when he came out, and his stepfather is a homophobe," Raul commented. He snorted. "I have no clue how they both didn't already know. It's glaringly obvious."
Michel frowned. "What's that mean?"
"You'll know when you see him," Raul replied. "He's very … feminine for a guy."
Nodding slowly, Michel fell silent as he thought about that. He hoped it didn't mean Jason was weak. He was a pretty big fellow and enjoyed rough sex on occasion. He didn't want to have to pussy foot around his mate.
The sliding glass door opened, drawing his attention … and Michel just about swallowed his tongue. Out stepped a slender, barely dressed male. Yards of milky white skin begged for his touch, since the only clothes the man wore were the smallest pair of jean shorts Michel had ever seen.
The guy had short auburn hair-with more red than brown-that was in wild disarray, telling Michel it probably hadn't been brushed after waking. He stood maybe five foot seven or eight, had lean swimmer's lines, no body hair, not even a treasure trail, and his slender bare feet sported neon green nail polish. Michel had the oddest desire to lick and suck the man's toes.
"Oh, um, sorry, Uncle Raul. Jared told me to come out here and start the grill," the young man stated, glancing between them uncertainly.
"I'll just bet he did," Raul muttered under his breath. Turning toward Jason fully, he nodded at the grill. "Better get it started then."
"Holy shite," Michel mumbled.
Raul turned his back on Jason just long enough to quietly growl, "That's my baby nephew you're ogling, asshole."
Michel frowned at Raul, but the look was lost on him since he'd already turned away and started toward Jason … who must have been having trouble figuring out the grill, because the young man was leaning over, showing off the sexiest bubble butt. Michel's hands twitched, desire to cup and squeeze those round mounds roaring through him.
Between the man's scent and his state of dress-or undress-Michel's cock turned hard as steel and he took a second while both men were occupied with the grill to adjust himself, then pull his shirt down, making certain it was long enough to hide his arousal.
Finally, Raul turned to face him again. "Jason, this is our buddy Michel McDover." He waved a hand at his mate. "My nephew, Jason Truollo."
Schooling his features, Michel offered his hand. "Nice to meet ye," he said, pleased his voice came out even, although his accent thickened due to his arousal.
"And you, sir," Jason replied.
When Jason took his hand, Michel couldn't help but notice how his big, calloused hand swallowed his mate's. He gave Jason's hand a slight squeeze as he smiled, trying to quell the urge to use the hold to yank the unsuspecting man into his arms and see if he tasted as good as he looked and smelled.
"Call me Michel," he commanded softly, releasing Jason's hand.
Jason nodded, his face and neck flushing from either pleasure or embarrassment, Michel wasn't certain which. Roving his gaze over the other human's chest, he wondered if-in the heat of passion-that rosy hue would cover the rest of his torso.
Chapter Three
Jason ogled the big man Michel through his lashes as he picked at his food. His hand still tingled from when they'd shook hands. As soon as he'd managed to get his tongue unstuck from the roof of his mouth, he'd excused himself and found a shirt. If Jason had known his uncle had company other than Jared and his boyfriend-Carson, he remembered-he never would have left his room in just the shorts.
Parading around in the comfy shorts in front of family was one thing, but he never would have had the courage to do that in front of a stranger-especially, one as sexy as the mountain man currently sitting across from him. With his thick, black beard, dark world-weary eyes, tall broad shoulders, and muscles in all the right places, Michel epitomized Jason's dream man … complete with callouses on his fingers that'd feel oh-so-good running over his skin. If he'd thought he could get away with it, Jason would have stopped in the bathroom and jacked off.
"The steak not to yer liking?"
Jason jerked his gaze up and discovered Michel staring at him steadily, his gaze intense.
And, God, his accent! Yum!
"Uh, n-no," he stuttered. Realizing what he said, Jason shook his head. "I mean I'm just not too hungry. I don't eat much when I travel. Once I get settled in, I'll get hungry again."
God, just shut up!
He knew he babbled when he got nervous, and this guy fired just about every nerve in his body. His dick pressed against the zipper of his little shorts, probably leaving a mark. So much for comfort.
"Ye don't seem to have much weight to spare, Jason," Michel commented. "Mayhap ye better finish those last few bites anyway."
Jason flushed, his face heating. Was the man checking him out? Oh, wait … he'd just criticized how Jason looked … so why didn't that make his dick go down? Was there any more blood in his body? He obeyed the man, more because having food in his mouth gave him an excuse not to talk than for any other reason. Just his luck. What he'd thought might be appreciative glances were actually the man critiquing him … and Jason falling short.
Story of my life.
"Raul didn't say where ye traveled from," Michel said.
Was that a question? Jason swallowed and answered anyway. "Hartford, Connecticut."
"Did ye do much hiking there?" Michel pressed.
"Uh … no," Jason replied, frowning, wondering where this was going.
Michel shrugged. "These mountains are amazing for hiking, biking, running, even horseback riding. Ye into any of that?"
"I run," Jason admitted. "I did track in high school, but I wasn't really good enough to compete at college level."
Nodding, Michel stabbed a couple green beans with his fork before offering, "Well, if ye're interested in seeing some of the trails around here, I'd be happy to show ye."
Hiking with a hard-on? Hiking with a big, burly, straight, sexy motherfucker who thought he was too skinny? Not bloody likely. Except what else was he going to do other than job hunt? Besides, he could use some friends and it was obvious Michel didn't care he was gay.
Wait, he was sitting at a table with four other gay men, maybe Michel wasn't so straight. Maybe he had a chance, after all. He hadn't gotten laid in months … if what he'd done with his last boyfriend could be called getting laid. Participating in hand jobs, blow jobs, and rub offs, Jason had never got up the courage to go all the way. He bet the older, burly man could show him a thing or two … except when Michel got tired of him, hanging with his friends could get really uncomfortable.
Damn it … wait! If we kept it strictly as friends with benefits or a mentor teaching a student … God, that sounds hot!
He must have let his internal ramblings get the best of him, remaining silent too long, for he saw Michel now focused on his steak and saying, "Well, if ye change yer mind, holler. Yer uncle knows how to reach me."