Trevor shooed everyone away with handshakes and thanks, until only Don remained, chatting with Megan. Don had been congratulated, backslapped, and otherwise commended by everyone who showed up, sometimes more than once. Trevor thought he would never get the hero of the hour to himself.
“I didn’t smack him hard, Don,” Megan said.
“Just hard enough to get some sense into my head.” Trevor caught the tail end of her statement from behind. To his pleasure, she jumped and landed with guilt all over her face. “I was behaving like a terrible Greenie.” He’d been behaving worse than that, but Megan wasn’t privy to the details.
“Them’s fighting words,” Don said mildly. “Thanks for coming out, Megan. Tell Caleb and the little guys their Uncle Don’s going to take them fishing one of these days real soon.” He kissed her on the cheek, and she left, but not without a pointed look to remind Trevor of her whup-ass supply.
“She didn’t really smack me,” Trevor said as they led Sabrina into the house. “Although I would have deserved it.”
“I don’t hold with smacking anyone.” Don glanced up from removing his muddy boots in the foyer. “I’ll wash in the utility sink downstairs, and we can clean up Miss Dirtydog at the same time.” He made the complicated knots of her improvised harness fall apart with a tug. “Grab some towels.”
How the hell had Trevor been stupid enough to say anything to chase this man away? If he had the sense of a doorknob, he’d marry Don before he got the slightest hint that another guy might be more desirable than Trevor. His ex might have shit for brains, but Trevor hadn’t been using more than a good grade of cauliflower for his own.
He came downstairs with an armload of terrycloth to find Sabrina in the granite utility basin and Don using an old sour cream container to rinse the mud away. Although Don seemed to be holding on to her and trembling more than washing. She nuzzled his ear, lapping at the gentle curve that became suddenly precious. Trevor should be the one nuzzling that ear, whispering sweet nothings into it. Whispering, “I love you.”
“Don?” His footsteps on the stair might have announced him, but Don didn’t turn. “Thank you. You’re an amazing man.”
Don didn’t let go of his squirmy armful, just poured another container of water over her leg. “I would try to rescue anyone’s dog, Trev.”
“I know. You’ve got a big heart, and if I had any sense at all, I’d be quietly appreciative that you saw anything at all worthwhile in me.” Trevor came a little closer, yearning to lay his hand on Don’s shoulder. Yet he hadn’t the right. “I shouldn’t wish you could compare me to other guys. I should probably be grateful you can’t. Because I’m an ass, and I’m sorry.”
Don did look up at that, standing enough to see his open flannel shirt and the white T-shirt beneath were soaked through. Trevor wanted so badly to peel the wet fabric away from Don’s skin and kiss everything revealed, to make it clear how much he appreciated Don.
And Don would tell him he was kissing the only available gay skin around, so it couldn’t be real. Just like he’d told Don. How had he become such a schmuck?
Don spoke slowly. “Not that I don’t have some comparison. Almost got married once, did I ever say? Got real close. We’re still friends.”
Trevor shuddered. “Megan mentioned something, while she was considering pushing me into the shaft.”
Don left one hand on Sabrina’s shoulder. “I know something about love and respect and doing things together. Raising a family even. Was everything it felt like a marriage could be, except for passion, wasn’t none of that. When she met a man who could give her everything including the passion, I had to let her go. So maybe I’m giving you everything you need except the fancy Hollywood stuff. It’s your work, it’s important to you. Money and applause. You win some fancy gold statue, you’ll want someone who can stand by your side.” He turned back to the dog to rinse away another streak of mud.
Trevor took a deep breath. “Premiers and awards are still maybes, Don. The movie isn’t made yet. It might never be made. Awards aren’t even a distant dream. And even so, you could do as much or as little of that as you choose. The only difference between you right now and you on the red carpet is some grooming. Same for me. My nails are a mess.”
Don shook his head. “My nails are always a mess.”
Foot, meet mouth. “You haven’t met my manicurist. And you don’t have to, if you don’t want to. As long as I can bring the little dust-catchers home to you.” Trevor came a few steps closer, close enough to fill the plastic container with water. He couldn’t let Don wash the dog alone—this was something they should do together. Like partners.
Don inspected Sabrina’s back foot. “Not sure our real problem is anything a manicurist could fix, Trev. You’ve gone Hollywood on me twice now. I don’t know what to do with it, and I don’t like it. It’s like you have a whole other language and you’re laughing at me.”
Trevor froze with the cup sideways in the air after all the water tipped out. “It’s a different culture, yeah. It—doesn’t belong out here. Maybe I don’t belong out here.”
“You don’t do it all the time,” Don pointed out. “Most of the time you’re all right.”
“Except for when I’m not.” Trevor bit the bullet. “It’s why I was stupid about you saying you loved me. People say stuff like that all the time. When Antony said it, he meant he wanted a—” He stopped himself before “blowjob” got out. “—a trip, or a night out, or a role in a film. I’m not used to hearing the real deal, and I had to think hard to believe that you were saying what you meant.”
“I was.”
Please let that not be only in the past. Now was the time to risk all. Trevor turned Don to look into his eyes. “And I was so insecure I questioned it, and so plastic that I had to dig to realize I felt the same way about you.”
“You do?” Both of those irresistible bushy brows went high on Don’s forehead. “You have a weird way of showing it.”
“I know. Will you let me stick around and teach me the Montana method? I can do better. I’d like to do better.” Trevor dared to rest both hands on Don’s arms. “I want you to feel loved.”
Sabrina saw her chance. Boing—out of the basin, onto the floor. Gotta shake!
Water flew everywhere. Trevor cowered behind a crooked elbow; Don held both hands before his face. Sabrina went for another round of shaking, the flap-flap of her ears and jowls getting lost in laughter.
She was much drier when Trevor finally caught her in a towel. “That’s enough of that, girl!” He imprisoned the naughty pooch between his legs, rubbing her fluffy. The concrete was cold under his butt, almost as cold as the pit of his stomach. “So what do you think, Don?”
Don handed over another towel. “Turns out there is a gay bar in Billings. One in Missoula, too.”
Oh shit. He’d told Don to go out with other guys. Find out what someone else’s kisses were all about. So he’d know if it was really Trevor he wanted, not the only gay man he’d found. Don had taken him up on it.
He wrapped a dry layer of towel around Sabrina and clung tight to her, braced for what came next. “And?”
“I think we oughta do a road trip.” The big man in wet flannel bent to lift Trevor’s face for a kiss. “High time you took me on a proper date.”