Steal My Heart

Chapter 5

SOMEHOW HILLIARD ended up covered in paint. It wasn’t as though Brian actually tried to spray him; Hilliard just seemed to be a magnet for every stray bit of the stuff. His old jeans and navy T-shirt were spattered with butter-colored splotches that resembled stars if he looked at them a little off-focus. His hair and skin were covered with flecks of the stuff too. “You even managed to get some on your nose,” Brian teased, because his own clothes and skin were nearly pristine. How in the laws of physics they managed that was beyond Hilliard’s understanding. Maybe Brian was coated in Teflon and the shit just bounced off of him and onto Hilliard.

Brian returned to the last section of house and applied an even layer of paint, the gun hissing and the compressor kicking in, covering up the ever-present roll of the ocean just below the cliffs at the edges of town.

“Is that it?” Hilliard asked as he stepped back from the ladder he’d been holding steady. Part of the yard was just uneven enough that he figured it was safer than letting Brian go up on his own. Besides, with Brian on the ladder and Hilliard holding it, he got to watch Brian, and that provided one hell of a view—even better than the rocks with waves crashing over them in the cove a few streets over. The man had an ass to die for, that was for sure, and the way he was standing only accentuated the way his back curved and then flowed into a perfect bubble butt.

“It looks like it,” Brian said, checking out his work before climbing down. “We just need it to dry. Thankfully the breeze is slight today and the sun warm enough that it shouldn’t take long.”

“That’s great.” Hilliard stepped back to take in the entire house and smiled. It did look good, and with some touch-ups on the trim once the main walls were dry, the old house would look like she should once again. Now all they needed to do was paint the fence, and then he could replace the roses that grew on the arbor over the front gate and the place would be just as he remembered from his visits years ago. He just had to figure out how he was going to tackle the inside, since his budget would only go so far. The money Alan wired him from the practice needed to stay in the bank. That was his capital—money he’d need to either buy into a new firm in Cleveland or start a practice in town. He still wasn’t sure what he wanted to do. “I really love how it looks.”

“Good. I want to wait an hour or so before taking down the plastic.” He started cleaning the paint sprayer using a bucket and the hose, letting the pieces soak as he closed up the ladder before loading it onto his truck rack.

While Brian packed up the rest of his equipment, Hilliard went inside, not daring to touch anything except the door to the old refrigerator until he got out of his clothes and into the shower. He grabbed a couple bottles of water and took one out to Brian, who had started removing the plastic from the side of the house he’d painted first.

“Thank you.” Brian twisted off the lid and drank half the bottle, with a small drip of water running down his chin that Hilliard wanted desperately to lick off that tempting sun-bronzed skin. “I needed that.” He licked his lips, and Hilliard nearly dropped his water bottle.

“No problem.” Hilliard stepped out of the way so Brian could finish his work. As much as he wanted to stay here and watch Brian, he went inside and right into the bathroom.

Stripping off his clothes, he sighed and willed himself not to think of Brian, but it was impossible. By the time he stepped under the hot water, his cock pointed north. At first he tried to ignore it, but when he closed his eyes, he could almost feel Brian in there with him, his rough hands running over Hilliard’s chest and down his belly before callused fingers wrapped around his cock, tugging just the way he liked. Damn, that felt good. He moaned softly, reaching for the soap. He slicked his hand, still imagining Brian’s, and slowly stroked himself, the water running over him, heating his skin, adding to the sensation, which grew more intense with each stroke. Fuck, he could almost feel Brian right behind him, his chest pressed to Hilliard’s back, the impressive cock he’d caught hints of in his work clothes pressed to Hilliard’s ass, strong arms holding him upright as he continued stroking, sending Hilliard flying on wings of delight until he could take it no more. His leg bounced as pressure built inside until his breath hitched and he tumbled into sweet release.

The water continued flowing over him as Hilliard breathed deeply, letting his mind return to the present. Then, with a soft sigh, he returned to his lonely reality. Hilliard grabbed the soap and began the mundane task of scrubbing off all the damned paint, leaving his skin red when he was done.

Once he was showered and dried, he wrapped the towel around his waist and checked out front. Brian was just loading up two black trash bags before climbing into the truck. Hilliard stepped away from the window so Brian wouldn’t see him watching and went to the closet and looked through the hangers to try to figure out what to wear.

HILLIARD WOULD never tell anyone, but it took three outfit changes before he looked the way he thought he should. He wanted to look good, but he didn’t want to seem like he was trying too hard. He wasn’t sure if this was a date, a meet-my-family sort of thing. More likely it was just dinner. He didn’t want to seem like a schlub either way, but he didn’t want to dress like he was going on a date, because what if Brian didn’t feel that way? And who had a dinner date with their grandmother there? Hilliard was going in circles and needed to stop his mind from short-circuiting completely. In the end he settled for tan slacks and a blue-, green-, and white-striped polo shirt.

Brian had given him the address, so he walked the three blocks toward the ocean and one block over to the obviously well-cared-for light green house with white trim. The garden was immaculate, filled with flowers in an array of colors that took his breath away. As he approached the door, the dogs went nuts inside, and Brian appeared. For a second he wondered if Brian had been watching for him.

“Knock it off. You know him. He isn’t here to eat you.” Brian opened the screen door, and both dogs hurried out, barking until he knelt down. Then they went nuts, winding around him in a dance for attention. They practically jumped over each other to get to him, and Hilliard made sure to pet them both. “Let him come inside,” Brian said, and he stood, the dogs hurrying back through the door. Hilliard followed, handing Brian the bottle of wine he’d had in the house. He hoped it was good.

“Thanks for having me over. I was starting to get tired of my own cooking.” He smiled as Brian closed the door after him, and got a whiff of his earthy scent as he passed by. “Cleveland is many things, but there’s a vibrant restaurant scene.”

“There are a few decent restaurants in town and some more in the area, but you have to pick and choose. The Mack House here in town is good—”

“Especially their chicken, but it doesn’t hold a candle to mine.” A frail-looking woman came into the room and stopped to hold the door frame. “But then, not much does.”

“Gran, if this is too much…,” Brian said.

“Nonsense.” She smiled and instantly seemed much younger. “I don’t get to cook much, and I needed to pass on my secret to someone before I check out for the last time.” She made her way up to Hilliard. “I’m Beverly, and you must be Hilliard. I’ve already heard things about you.” She looked him over. “Ruth was right—you are hunky.”

Hilliard blushed. “Thank you?”

Beverly waved her hand. “Don’t play humble with me. You know you turn heads. Heck, if I were a few decades younger….”

“Well that’s sweet of you, but I tend to flow in a different direction. Still, I bet you turned heads too.”

“Enough of your sweet talk.” Beverly sat down in what Hilliard assumed was her chair.

“Gran, what about the rest of dinner?” Brian hurried into the kitchen. Hilliard figured he needed to stay out of his way.

“Everything is fine,” Beverly said, but Brian seemed to have a different opinion as he checked the things on the stove, turning down burners as well as the oven.

“No, it wasn’t,” he said gently before returning to the living room. “All the burners were on full, and everything would have scorched.” He sat next to her.

“I finished the chicken,” Beverly said with much less force than she had before. Brian patted her hand and nodded as the last of her energy seemed to leave her and she closed her eyes. Brian grabbed a blanket that rested on the arm of the sofa and spread it over her. Then he tilted his head toward the kitchen, and Hilliard joined him, with the dogs following, their nails clicking on the floor.

“I’m sorry. I should have known this would be too much for her.” Brian opened the refrigerator and handed Hilliard a beer before checking on dinner once more. “She got everything together, but I think standing at the stove wore her out.”

“Will she be okay?” Hilliard asked, his gaze going to where she rested.

“Yes. Gran catnaps a lot. Dinner is going to be a few minutes yet, so I’ll just let her rest. She was determined to make dinner herself.” He lowered his gaze, and Hilliard tried to figure out why. “She appreciates that you’re helping me.” He leaned closer. “And I think this is Gran’s way of feeling you out.”

“Huh?” Hilliard said. “I don’t get it.”

Brian hesitated, and Hilliard knew from his legal training that it was best just to give people time and not push them to talk to you. Brian grew more nervous by the second and then shook his head. “This is probably a really bad idea.”

Hilliard could feel Brian pulling away, locking whatever he wanted to say back behind the walls he had put up in order to protect himself. Not that Hilliard blamed him. If he had been through what Brian had, he’d have walls the size of Everest. “What?” he asked softly. “You’re leaving me a little in the dark here.”

“He means that I’m a pushy old broad,” Beverly said from the other room, not sounding the least bit tired. “And that I wanted to invite you over to see if you were interested in my grandson.” Clearly someone had been playing their own version of possum.

“I see.” He turned back to Brian. “Why didn’t you just ask?”

Brian rolled his eyes. “How exactly do I phrase that question? You’re a lawyer, and I’m an ex-con hoping to clear his name. So do I say something like, ‘Hey, I think you’re handsome, but I’ve been to prison for burglary. You wanna get busy or something?’”

Hilliard snorted. “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re kind of bad at this sort of thing? How about something like….” He set his beer on the counter and moved closer to Brian, watching him swallow but feeling the heat build between them the closer he got. He looked into Brian’s eyes. “I think you’re hot and thought you might feel the same way about me. So if you’re inclined, maybe we could have dinner and go to a movie or something.”

Brian snorted. “Are we teenagers now?”

Hilliard shrugged. “All my past relationships started out hot, and look how they turned out. The last one crashed and burned when I found out Alan was screwing every younger guy he could get to bend over his damned desk.” He took a deep breath to try to calm himself down. Brian stepped back as Hilliard felt the anger washing off himself. It was not a good feeling. “I think I need a chance to get over him.”

“I see.” Brian turned back to the stove. “I understand that. Not everyone is ready to date or that sort of thing. We can keep our dealings professional. That’s perfectly fair.”

“Oh poo,” Beverly said from the other room. “Hilliard is saying he needs to take things slow, not push you away. God, sometimes you men don’t know how to communicate for crap.”

“That’s enough from the peanut gallery in there,” Brian snapped without any heat. “You were the one who was supposed to be making dinner, you know.” He took pots off the stove and began mashing potatoes and putting butter on veggies.

“Maybe, but your gran is right. We don’t need to rush into things. I have a lot of the mess from Alan to clean up. He might have bought me out of the practice, but I still need to figure out what I am going to do professionally, and I think I need to get to a place where I don’t want to wring the bastard’s neck every time I mention his name.” Apparently he had a lot of unresolved anger and resentment issues that he needed to figure out.

“I’m usually right,” she added, and Brian rolled his eyes as he got out bowls and began getting the food ready to serve. “I’d like a beer with dinner.”

“You know what the doctor told you,” Brian said.

The most undignified sound came from the living room, and Hilliard smiled. “She’s something else.”

“Try living with her,” Brian retorted with a gentle smile.

“I’m over eighty, and one beer is not going to kill me. And if it does, then I’m a lot closer to the jumping-off place than I think I am.” She pushed off the blanket and got up out of her chair, grabbed her cane, and headed slowly to the table. Hilliard helped Brian bring in the food, with Brian placing a glass of beer at Beverly’s place. Then they all sat down to what looked like the best home-cooked meal he’d had in years.

“SO HOW do you propose to help prove that Brian didn’t rob anyone?” Beverly asked over a piece of her to-die-for cherry cobbler.

“I’m not sure. The easiest way would be to try to verify his alibi. I’m assuming the police tried to do that when the case was first investigated.”

Beverly snorted. “This place may look like Cabot Cove, but there most definitely is no Jessica Fletcher in this town. Heck, as far as the police are concerned, it’s more like Mayberry and all the cops are Barney Fife. They saw what they wanted to see and then didn’t go any further. They figured they had enough evidence and that was that.”

Hilliard looked to Brian. “If that’s the case, then I think we need to recreate the road trip you and your grandfather took. See if there aren’t cameras, receipts, someone who remembers the two of you. Anything to help us prove your story.”

Brian shook his head and shrugged. “He and I went up and down the coast. It was just a road trip where we stopped at anything that caught our fancy.”

“Then we’ll divide it up. Go north one day and then south another. If there is a way to provide you with an alibi, then it will be out there somewhere. I’d also like to look into who might have really perpetrated the burglary. We all believe that it wasn’t Brian, so that means it was someone else, and we can assume it wasn’t some random stranger, because they would not have the knowledge to try to pin it on Brian. This was someone from town, someone who knew Brian was away.” He leaned over the table. “Someone close enough to be aware of what was happening in your lives.”

“Great,” Beverly said. “Now we need to be looking at all our friends.”

“Or enemies,” Hilliard supplied. “Who would have access to the burglary site? Who knew what was there?”

Gran sipped her beer. “That’s easy. Any of the family. Violet comes from a bunch of money-grubbers. They would all sell each other out for a dime if they thought they could get away with it.” She took a moment to think. “That year the historical society did one of their fundraisers. Violet and a number of others opened their homes for historical house tours. They sold tickets and everything.”

Hilliard groaned. “So any one of the people who came through could have seen what she had and returned to rob the place.” Great. That meant their chances of finding the thief were between zero and nothing.

“Gran, Violet would have put away anything she didn’t want people to see. We went on that tour, and the house looked bare, remember? You remarked that Violet seemed to have stripped the house to the walls, which you thought was an improvement because her place was usually cluttered to the gills.”

“Okay, let’s look past the home tour, because that isn’t going to get us anywhere. It is possible that someone may have scoped out the house at that time, but why only that one? There were others on the tour, I’m sure. Why was only that house targeted, especially if all the valuables had been put away?” He was pretty sure the house tour had little bearing on the burglary. “It’s likely the thief was closer to home.”

“But how do we figure it out?” Beverly asked.

“That’s pretty easy. We need to talk to the people involved. Get closer and see what we can find out. Do you think you can arrange it so we can talk to Violet? I’d like to get a look inside the house and maybe see where the things that had been stolen were kept.”

“I don’t know. Violet loves to have people over. She thinks of herself as the queen of the town. Nothing happens here without her knowing about it, and she loves to talk, but maybe not to me. Before all this business, she used to call every now and then, and I was lucky if I could get her off the phone after an hour. We’ll have to see on that front.”

“Okay. You work that angle, and maybe on Saturday, Brian and I can take a road trip and see what we can find out.” He ate the last bite of his cobbler and sat back in the chair. It had been a long time since he’d had a meal like that, and it had been amazing.

Brian began clearing the table, and Hilliard got up to help carry the plates and things to the sink. “You don’t need to do that.”

Hilliard finished helping Brian clear the table while Beverly settled in her chair with the dogs curled at her feet. “I should get going, but thank you for dinner. It was bellisima.”

“You’re welcome,” Beverly said from her chair, and Hilliard took her hand. She smiled at him. “Come over any time. Brian is a really good cook.” Was this one of those “let the matchmaking begin” kinds of situations? He wasn’t sure.

Brian walked Hilliard outside and down to the front gate, then opened it for him. “I’m glad you could come, and I really appreciate you helping me. I had no idea where to start, and it sounds like you have a plan.”

“Of sorts. I don’t know if anything is going to come of it, but we can at least try.” Hilliard was about to turn to leave, but he paused, meeting Brian’s gaze once more, and this time, he let the heat and longing in those eyes pull him closer. Without thinking, he gently cupped Brian’s cheeks and kissed him. He had intended on a gentle, soft kiss, but within seconds the fire between them flamed to life and Hilliard deepened the kiss, unable to stop himself and not wanting to.

Brian was delectable, and Hilliard could feast on those lips for hours, but he was finding out that in addition to being a town of water towers, Mendocino also had its share of gossips, and he wasn’t going to give them fodder, for both his and Brian’s sakes. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” His throat was dry and the words sounded rough, but he got them out and then turned and headed away from the Pacific, closer to the center of town. Hilliard couldn’t help turning back to smile and wave at Brian as the evening marine layer rolled in.