MATT PACED up and down in Shane’s room, fearing he’d leave trails in the carpet.
He had hugged Shane. The antelope had lain down on the paws of the lion and snuggled up against it. Fucking madness!
The embrace had occurred to him first in order to test Shane. Why, for goodness’ sake, had he done it? Maybe he hadn’t only been testing Shane, but also himself. What had he been trying to find out, then?
Matt never touched or hugged anyone, not even his mom or dad. Why had he chosen a muscle-bound guy, the type he feared most, to lay his arms around?
He stopped walking, touched his shoulders, and let his hands sweep down his arms. Shane had held him there, much more gently than such a powerful man was supposed to. Matt closed his eyes and for a moment forgot that the hands on his arms were his own. He shuddered. That simple hug had unhinged him, another confusing part of the puzzle. His body vibrated, and he resumed circling Shane’s room. He had to rid himself of at least a little of this surplus energy.
Shane had asked Matt to hurt him. That had been out of the question, though he hadn’t been afraid of Shane’s reaction. This lack of fear still irritated him. Iain, or any other guy, would’ve killed him for even trying to embrace them. He hadn’t exaggerated when whispering that into Shane’s ear.
Even stranger were the facts that Shane had hugged him back and that he had asked before doing so. Matt couldn’t have done anything to stop him anyway. He hadn’t wanted to resist in the first place. Just more madness.
So why did Shane return the embrace? Perhaps being an athlete, he was biased to his physical side, and he might touch people as another way of communication. He had reached out for Matt several times. In the locker room, after the incident with Iain, and in the bio lab. And don’t forget about the fist-bumping. Enough evidence existed to call Matt’s “touch equals communication” theory valid.
However unusual hugging seemed for Matt, it had also felt… natural, and if someone as manly as Shane didn’t object to an embrace, it had to be acceptable. The guys at school never hugged, but they didn’t even come close to being normal.
Normal people didn’t imitate each other’s style of clothing just to fit in. Normal people didn’t pick on a weaker guy just to hide their own weakness. Normal people just acted the way they were.
Scarred, inked, and buffed as he was, in the light of those definitions, Shane was the most normal guy Matt had ever met.
The flashlights of photo cameras on the TV screen caught Matt’s attention and broke his stride. Shane had left it on, though he had muted the sound. Gerard Peterson had obviously won the championship, for a guy in a suit put a sash over the massive chest of the bodybuilder. His rival, Trevor, came over to shake his hand. Gerard pulled the other man into an embrace, and they patted each other’s backs. Two more athletes who didn’t mind hugging.
So, when dealing with Shane, Matt had to accept touching. Already being aware of that idea on a subconscious level, maybe that had been what he had tried to find out: whether or not he could stand so much physical contact. He had passed the test, then. He could learn to enjoy hanging out with Shane. Feeling relaxed around him was just a matter of time spent together.
Matt had to go and look for Shane to see whether his reasoning lived up to reality.
It had to.
SHANE SIGNED on the pad the delivery guy gave him. “Here, for you.” He handed him a twenty-dollar bill.
The middle-aged man tipped his baseball cap. “Thanks, sport. Sure you don’t want my help to get those parcels out of your hall?”
Five boxes of various sizes cluttered up the narrow room.
“That’s okay. Thanks anyway,” Shane said.
The man shrugged. “You don’t look like you need my help. Those are some guns, sport.” He whistled through his teeth. “Perhaps I should actually visit the gym I’m paying for.” His laughing sounded like barking as he rubbed the bulge of his belly.
What felt more uncomfortable, being feared or being gaped at like some freak? “Thanks, sir.” Should he lecture the deliveryman about the importance of sports? Better not. The guy should just go. “Bye, sir.”
Once more, the man tipped his cap. “So long, sport.” He turned around and trotted down the gravel path.
Shane hurried to close the door before the guy decided that twenty bucks required some more small talk. This had taken long enough already. He’d just put the parcels into the garden shed and then he could take care of Matt again.
“Can I help you?” Matt peeked down over the railing of the stairs.
Shane smiled. “Of course.” He wouldn’t pass up an offer that meant being close to him.
“I can take a smaller one.” Matt pointed at one of the cardboard boxes. “Not much of a help, I know.”
“Every additional hand counts.” That Matt had come down and asked counted even more.
Shane grabbed two of the almost-square and rather slim parcels, one under each arm.
Matt descended the stairs but stopped as he reached the floor. He eyed the boxes under Shane’s arms and then Shane. His forehead wrinkled.
“Something’s wrong?” Shane checked the parcels, but everything seemed to be all right. He looked up at Matt. “What is it?” In a softer tone, he added, “Remember, talk to me if there’s any problem.”
Matt swallowed before he nodded. “The labels on them say they weigh one-hundred-five pounds each.” He lowered his head and considered his body. “You’re carrying exactly two Matts under your arms.” He raised his gaze again. “I knew you were strong, but this is such a tangible figure.”
Shane’s strength was just there, and he never thought about it. “Yes, I’m strong, but I’m also set on protecting you. This strength works for you, not against you.”
Several times, Matt’s gaze alternated between the parcels and Shane’s face. Each switch broadened the grin on his face. “That makes sense.” His grin turned impish. “And if I ever want to be carried around, I know who to ask.”
If Matt ever asked, Shane would do it. Matt had no idea he could request anything from him.
“You know I’m kidding?” Still cheerful, Matt raised an eyebrow.
“Of course.” Shane returned the grin. Hopefully it hid whatever had given away his thoughts.
“The hundred-five-pound guy takes this twenty-pound parcel”—Matt picked up one of the smaller boxes—“and will crow over the two-hundred-fifty-pound guy with the two-hundred-ten-pound parcels.” He studied the tag on his box. “Tom’s Fishing Supplies? What kind of fishing equipment is so bulky?”
“First, it’s two-hundred-sixty pounds, if you please, and second, it’s a flare smoker. Of course, it’s the oversized deluxe model. My father wouldn’t settle for anything less.” They were back to joking around as if Matt never had fallen asleep on him—or perhaps because he had?
“Oversized seems to be the McAllistair family thing.” Matt looked at Shane, his face tense.
“And being sassy is the Dermond family thing?” Shane chortled.
Matt’s features relaxed, and he laughed along. “No, it’s more a Matt thing, though it’s kind of a hidden talent.”
“Just for the record, I prefer sassy over careful. So let your talent shine.”
They chuckled together.
“Though I’m strong, these arms want to get rid of the parcels. Would the hundred-five-pound guy consider following me, please?”
“The oversized prince and chef of this house shall lead the way.”
Worlds separated Matt in the locker room and sassy Matt. What else was hiding inside him? A giddy feeling of happiness came over Shane at the prospect of finding out firsthand.