Trevor’s shoulders slumped when the young clerk told him they were booked solid. “This day just keeps getting better.”
“I’m so sorry, sir.” The clerk’s dark eyes shone with genuine sincerity. “People have been coming in all evening, and with the airport closed now too, we filled up fast. You’re more than welcome to spend the night in our lobby or lounge. We’re gathering as many extra rollaways, blankets, and pillows as we can find, and the kitchen won’t be closing tonight.”
He forced a smile. “I guess that will have to do, then.” Not that he had any choice in the matter anyway. Not when the airport shuttle he’d finally caught had pulled into the hotel parking lot, and the driver announced they wouldn’t be going any farther. “Thank you.”
Trevor walked back into the main lobby area and pulled his cell phone from his pocket. His mom was going to kill him for not taking her warning about the snow seriously.
“Cariño. Did you catch an earlier flight? Please tell me you caught an earlier flight and you’ve just landed.” The words were rushed, her accent coming through stronger than usual, and his heart ached at the tentative hope in her voice. He would be spending Christmas alone for the first time in his life.
“No, I didn’t. I’m sorry, Mom.” Trevor sighed and sat on the arm of a vacant chair. “The airport is completely shut down. Traffic is gridlocked from the snow, and people are stranded everywhere.”
“Oh, mijo. Where are you now?”
“The shuttle dumped us at a hotel off the turnpike, but it’s fully booked.” A cold gust of air swept over him as the doors opened to let more stranded people inside.
“You can’t get back home?”
“Nope. No one’s going anywhere, so I’m stuck here for the night, at least. I was on the phone with the airlines for a while, and it looks like there’s no chance I’ll make it home for Christmas. I’ll be lucky if they manage to book me on another flight the day after.”
His mom was silent for a moment before she quietly said, “It won’t be the same without you, cariño.”
“I know.” He ran a hand through his hair, pushing the bangs out of his eyes. God, he was getting tired. He hadn’t felt too bad after his treatment, but the day was quickly catching up with him—and it looked like it was going to be a long one. If only there were still rooms and he could lie down for a while and recharge.
“Well”—her voice was stronger now, an edge of determination to it—“we’ll wait until you get here.”
“No! You can’t do that to the kids and everyone else. Especially Isaac. He’d have a fit.” His mom let out a short bark of laughter, but she couldn’t argue that point. Isaac was the same age as Trevor was, but when it came to everything Christmas, his brother acted more like three than thirty-nine. Trevor loved that infectious effervescence, though, and would never dream of dampening it. Not if he could help it. “Have Christmas. We’ll just have to celebrate extra big on New Year’s.”
A soft sniff echoed down the line, causing his eyes to sting and throat to tighten.
“Mom, it will be okay,” he said, fighting to keep the emotion from his voice. If he didn’t, then the two of them would both break down and his dad would have to step in.
“But what are you going to do? I feel horrible thinking of you all alone out there. Without your family. It’s not right.”
“Your little boy is not so little anymore,” he quipped, hoping to inject a little levity into the situation. “I think I’ll be okay.”
She huffed. “You’ll always be my baby boy, even when you’re an old married man.”
“Yeah.” Trevor squeezed his eyes shut and sank down into the seat of the chair. He was never going to be old or married, as much as he’d love to be both. But he wasn’t about to burst his mom’s bubble of hope right now. “And you’ll be the most gorgeous mother of the groom the world has ever seen.”
“Have you met my future son-in-law yet?”
“No, Mom. Not yet.” And he wasn’t going to, either. How could he start any kind of future with someone when he didn’t have one of his own?
“Well, you’d better hurry up before your mama is too old to look sexy in her high heels while she walks you down the aisle.”
“If he’s out there,” he mumbled.
“Of course he is!” Her adamant tone triggered an unexpected sense of loss for something he was now more certain than ever he’d never have.
Silence settled on the line between them, and over the din of the busy hotel lobby, Trevor heard laughter in the background. A rush of homesickness hit him hard. Should he move back home for his last days? As much as he wouldn’t want to put that on his family, after all they’d given and done for him, he knew his mother would kill him for even letting the thought that they’d think him a burden wander through his mind.
“Okay.” He gave himself a shake, hoping to dispel the creeping fatigue. “I’m going to go get some hot food and find a chair for the night. I’ll give you a call when I get my flights rebooked. Give everyone a hug for me.”
“I will. I love you.” Her voice caught on a hiccup. “We’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you, and love you, too. Talk to you soon.”
Trevor ended the call, dropping the hand holding it to his knee and bringing his chin to his chest. He would be okay, he knew that, but the prospect of spending the holidays by himself cast a dark pall over his mind. All his friends had either left town already or had their own families in the area. Even if the blizzard let up in time, he didn’t want to intrude on anyone else’s holidays. Missing his own family, coupled with the reality of his future, such as it was, deepened the emptiness that was trying to consume him. The last thing he wanted was for his mood to bring down anyone else.
A heavy sigh pushed past his lips as he shoved the phone back in his pocket, grabbed his bag, and made his way into the lounge.
The place was quickly approaching standing room only, and Trevor had to shoulder his way up to the bar, where he ordered a tea with lemon—because the Irish coffee he really wanted wasn’t worth the damage it would do to his kidneys—and a plain buffalo burger with a small side salad. The bartender slid a steaming cup in his direction and the first sip made Trevor’s eyes water, sending a rush of heat cascading outward from his stomach. He closed his eyes, and he might have moaned but couldn’t be sure over the chatter of voices surrounding him.
“Perfection,” he said under his breath.
The barkeep smiled and shook his head. “Be ’bout fifteen minutes for your burger.”
“Thanks.”
Trevor dug a pill pack out of his bag, popped the two binders he was to take before every meal, and then turned his sleep-weary eyes on the lounge at large, scanning for an empty table. Through the crowd, he caught sight of a vacant seat at a table in the far corner. He leaned to the side for a better look and froze when his gaze locked with one of the most attractive men he’d seen in a long time. He had classic good looks: strong jawline, dark hair trimmed neatly, eyes that somehow seem brighter than they should in such dim lighting, no matter their color.
The back of Trevor’s neck and his face began to heat as the man held his stare. Whether it was from the tea or the intensity of those eyes boring into him, he couldn’t say. And he couldn’t look away. The handsome stranger managed to hold him captive without word or touch. That kind of instant attraction was rare for him, and of course it had to happen now, when he had nothing left to give anyone.
Though . . . a little temporary comfort was still allowed, wasn’t it?
Someone moving through the packed lounge jostled Trevor, spilling his drink and breaking his heated connection with the man across the room. He turned away, skin sizzling from head to toe and hand burning from the hot tea.
“Order’s up, buddy.” The bartender slid Trevor’s dinner across the bar top.
Trevor jerked his head up. “Already?”
The barkeep just did that smiling and shaking his head thing again as he grabbed a towel and wrapped it around a handful of ice cubes. He set the faux ice pack beside the burger.
Trevor had to shake his head, too—mentally anyway. Had he and Mr. Handsome really been locked in a staring contest for fifteen minutes?
“Thank you.”
The barkeep nodded and went back to mixing drinks. Trevor rubbed the soothing ice pack over his burned skin until the sting eased, and then turned around, his gaze instantly reconnecting with Mr. Handsome across the room.
Without breaking eye contact, Handsome reached over and angled the empty chair away from the table in silent invitation.
You’d be a fool to ignore that, Trev.
He shouldered his bag, picked up his plate and what was left of his tea, and made his way across the lounge. “Mind if I join you?”
A sensual smile stretched Mr. Handsome’s lips, his forest-green eyes sparkling. “Please.”
His deep voice sent a shiver of excitement up Trevor’s spine, and he cleared his throat. “Thank you.” He tucked his bag under the table and pulled up the chair. “This is a lot more comfortable than trying to eat at the bar.”
“More elbow room,” the man said. He motioned toward Trevor’s bag. “Were you heading for the airport?”
Trevor nodded and reached for his drink to wash down the bite of food he’d just swallowed. “I was on my way to Connecticut to spend the holidays with family.”
“I can’t believe they actually shut down the airport.” The man paused to take a sip of his drink. “When was the last time that happened?”
Trevor’s gaze lowered to the mouth of the sexy stranger sitting across from him, following the way his full lips curved over the rim of the glass, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. A sudden image of those lips around something else rose in his mind, sucking, swallowing, and . . .
Shit, get a grip.
Trevor shifted in his seat and dropped his focus to stare pointedly at his food. “I’m not sure it ever has,” he said, a rough edge to his voice. “Bad timing too, with the holidays and all.”
“Will you be able to get another flight?” the man asked, seemingly unaware of Trevor’s quick trip to a mental porn set.
He shook his head. “Looks like now I get to spend it alone in Nederland.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” There was something in the man’s voice that made Trevor think he could relate. Then dark eyebrows rose and a flirty smile, intentional or not, sent a little thrill dancing in the back of Trevor’s mind. Damn, but this man was attractive.
“You live in Ned?” Mr. Handsome’s tone was playful. “You’ll be lucky to get back up there before March.”
Trevor laughed. Yes, living at eighty-two hundred feet did have its drawbacks, but he couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. There was an intangible energy in the mountains that soothed his soul and fed his creative muse. He hadn’t achieved critical success as an artist until he’d moved here, even though his mom always said he was so talented he’d have reached that level anyway, regardless of geography. Nederland wasn’t all that out there in the boonies, either—just a thirty-minute drive down into Boulder . . . when the roads weren’t covered in snow. Chances were high the canyon road would end up closed from the blizzard too, if it hadn’t been already.
“It suits me.” Trevor shrugged. “How about you?”
“I was on my way home from work in Denver. Got stuck on the turnpike. Home is Boulder.”
“Wow. We’re practically neighbors.” Trevor took a bite of his burger, and his tablemate’s gaze focused on his mouth, staring long enough for heat to infuse Trevor’s cheeks before he lifted his eyes to meet Trevor’s. The air between them simmered and buzzed over the surface of his skin.
Damn. And he’d thought he was getting tired? Suddenly he was feeling fresh as a new day.
He put his burger down and struggled to swallow. Jeez, when was the last time he’d been so enticed by someone he’d just met? And when was the last time his body had shown even a spark of interest since he’d been diagnosed? Sure, he’d experienced instant attraction before, but he could count on one hand the number of times his breath had caught and his heart had stuttered. Which would be exactly one time. Now.
He reached out across the table. “Trevor.”
The hand that engulfed his was warm, smooth, and confident. “Marc.”
They shook twice, but Marc held on to Trevor’s hand instead of letting go right away—or maybe it was the other way around. Regardless, he didn’t care. The feel of Marc’s skin against his pinged every nerve ending with teasing jolts of pleasure, nudging at desires long ignored, and he fought the urge to lick his lips.
“Pleasure to meet you, Marc,” he said, his voice husky from the low hum of arousal coursing through his veins.
“Pleasure’s all mine.” Marc’s green eyes gleamed, and a hint of a grin tipped up the corners of his mouth.
A long beat or two later, Marc released Trevor’s hand slowly enough for his fingertips to slide along Trevor’s palm. Imagined on his part or forward on Marc’s, the effect was the same. Trevor’s previously dormant libido was waking up, and right then and there, he wanted Marc.