Last Stop Read online

  Dedication

  I want to thank my friend and tireless beta reader, Josephine Myles, and members of the Man Oh Man Critique Group whose feedback helped to shape this story.

  Prologue

  The first light of dawn slashed through the darkness, spilling the new day over the unsuspecting land. Iron gates slid open with a series of sharp metal clanks, and a dark-haired man stepped out into the early morning haze. Half a decade behind bars had done little to change his soft features or the cruel curve of his mouth. A large black car waited for him by the curb, engine running. He gave a curt nod to the man holding the door open and got into the car. Seconds later they sped off in the direction of the city.

  A thousand miles away a man stared into his bathroom mirror.

  “You’re Sam Mayne, and this is the first day of the rest of your life,” he reminded the stranger glaring back at him. He’d stared at his reflection in the same mirror every morning for the last five years. He thought one of these days he might feel like that normal, average guy, but he had doubts.

  Chapter One

  NT: I’ve got a job for you.

  SR: I’m all ears.

  NT: Not over the phone. Meet me at Mario’s tonight at six. Don’t be late.

  Jay Colby hated waking up “with the chickens”, as his nana used to say, but he had no choice—some guy was shaking him, trying to get him to rise.

  “Wake up, kid. This is as far as I can take you.”

  For a second Jay couldn’t remember where he was and why, and who the man was. Then it all came back—his hasty departure from Denver, the ride in the eighteen-wheeler, and Doug, the driver, who was now keen on getting rid of him.

  “I go a little farther, but can’t have you in the cab when I get there, and this is the last truck stop before,” Doug explained.

  “Yes, of course. Thanks for the ride.” Jay rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

  He unbuckled himself, collected his backpack and jacket, and cast an eye around just to make sure he left nothing behind. He was halfway out of the cab when Doug spoke up again.

  “I could put a word out for you on the CB if you want.”

  “No. Thanks. I’ll be fine. Have a good trip,” Jay said, slamming the heavy door shut. The truck lurched forward and was soon back on the freeway.

  Jay needed to hitch a ride for the next leg of his trip, but he wasn’t just going to hop into a truck without getting a feel for its driver first. He was good at reading people—with the exception of the men he got involved with, as his latest fiasco had proven yet again. Jay adjusted the backpack on his shoulder and looked around. It wasn’t much of a truck stop, just a gas station and a big dirt parking lot. No matter, he’d find a ride. He’d been doing well enough so far. Doug had been a stereotypical trucker—middle-aged, thick around the middle, and his face framed by a scraggly beard. He’d also been shockingly heterosexual for a guy who’d pick up a young guy in a truck stop. That puzzle was solved fast. Doug was a talker, and Jay served to relieve the monotony of a long trip. At first Jay was grateful for the setup. Screwing truckers wasn’t against his principles by a long stretch, but Doug was no dreamboat. However, by the time they got to Casper, Wyoming, Jay wished that the trucker would just shut up and fuck him instead.

  So, now Jay was here, in some dinky town along the freeway, somewhere in Montana. At least he thought it was Montana. He decided to stretch his legs first, so he picked a direction randomly and started walking. Maybe the crisp morning air would help to get rid of his shitty mood. The spectacular disaster his last love affair turned into still gnawed on him, and he hadn’t been decently fucked in ages. He kept telling himself that Seattle would be different, but the suspicion that the problem was him and not the cities, kept bugging him. Not for the first time in his life, he wished for a sign—anything to give him direction.

  Help Wanted wasn’t what he had in mind. Hell knew why he knocked on the door of Sam’s Diner, but when Mr. Dark and Handsome opened it, Jay decided that sticking around for a little while wouldn’t be so bad.

  The man was taller than Jay by many inches, broad-shouldered and muscular. He had a strong jawline, a straight, somewhat-thick nose, and brown eyes that seemed to see straight through Jay. The few silver strands peppering the dark hair over his temples made him especially alluring in Jay’s eyes. Thick hair covered his forearms too, promising more under his clothes. Jay had a finely tuned gaydar that picked up even the slightest hint of bi-curiosity. There was definitely a spark of interest in those dark eyes.

  Sam was about done refilling the ketchup bottles when the insistent rapping on the door drew his attention. It was a good half an hour before opening, but it wouldn’t be the first time one of the locals or a trucker fed up with gas-station hot dogs had bothered him. Sam opened the door, in the mood to give them a piece of his mind, but stopped short. The guy standing there was definitely not a trucker, and sure as hell wasn’t local. Coldwater was a small town, and if the young man had been from around there, Sam would have noticed him by now. One of Sam’s eyebrows quirked north as he took in the slender body encased in jeans and a red hoodie, more snugly fit than local sensibilities would allow.

  “Can I help you?” Sam asked.

  “Hi, I’m here about the job,” the guy said, tilting his head toward the sign in the window.

  That sign had been there for three days since Marylou ditched her apron and blew town, and Sam was getting desperate. Hence, he should’ve had every reason to rejoice, but was uneasy instead. This was trouble, Sam knew it right away. He could smell it in that mix of sweat, stale cigarettes, diesel fuel and young male rolling off the guy. For starters, he was too damn young, a kid really. Sam surveyed the smooth face and tousled, dirty-blond hair. The kid was lean, fresh, full of smooth curves that life hadn’t yet ground down to hard edges. A runaway or a drifter, judging from the overstuffed backpack hanging off one shoulder.

  “Do you have any experience?” Sam asked gruffly.

  “Plenty,” the kid replied, and damn if it wasn’t innuendo sparkling in those blue eyes.

  “I mean, in a restaurant,” Sam added, without expressing surprise, pleased or otherwise.

  “That too.”

  “How old are you?” Sam looked him over one more time, not missing the unspoken invitation of the kid’s forward-thrust hips.

  “Twenty-two. I can show you my driver’s license,” the kid added, catching Sam’s skeptical expression.

  “You have a name?”

  “Jay. You’re Sam?”

  “Yeah, that’s me. Well, come on in then.” Sam stood aside at last, convinced he was letting trouble into his life.

  Jay walked in and made himself comfortable. Sam explained the what and where—it was no rocket science. The kid would probably be gone by lunch time, Sam told himself.

  As if to prove him wrong, Jay busted ass on his first day. They spent the breakfast shift in an uncoordinated scramble around each other and the kitchen appliances, but by lunch they found a working rhythm led by a shorthand of gestures and barked-out words.

  “Move it, old man, you’re making me look bad,” Jay said loud enough for nearby customers to hear.

  Sam smacked the metal spatula to the griddle without turning around. The angry metal-on-metal clunk was meant to convey the message “Watch it, kid”, but secretly Sam was enjoying himself. Jay had spunk for sure, and Sam liked it.

  Looking at the kid, anyone with a little experience in such things could pick up his queerness, but he wasn’t so obvious to the untrained eyes of the residents of Coldwater. Aside from a few sideways looks, mostly from truckers, the customers were happy to have friendly and efficient service. Especially since Marylou had never managed better than a bubblegum-popping disinterest.

  “…and what
can I get for your sister?” Sam caught the snatch of conversation and turned his head to see Jay shamelessly flirting with a customer. Leanne Harris was a harried single mother whom nobody had mistaken for her teenage daughter’s sister for…well, ever. Yeah, the kid knew what he was doing.

  “Good tip?” Sam asked later when Leanne left beaming, with sulky daughter in tow.

  “An extra buck probably,” Jay agreed.

  “So you really have experience?”

  “Always have the customers leave smiling!” Jay said and winked at Sam.

  As Jay turned and sashayed away, Sam’s gaze followed him. The snug jeans flaunted a fine round ass. Sam had to drive off the carnal images invading his thoughts. He really didn’t need complications, as he kept reminding himself.

  Later, when Sam took a bag of trash to the dumpster out back, he’d found Tommy waiting for him at the door.

  “I haven’t seen you for days. Did you have good time?” He bent down and scratched the orange tabby behind the ears.

  The cat stood to greet him, rubbing his furry face against the legs of Sam’s jeans. Sam got food and water for Tommy and watched the cat scarf it down. A minute later Tommy took off with a farewell meow. Off to chase tail, no doubt. Sam envied the frisky feline. The kind of tail Sam liked to chase was in short supply in Coldwater, Montana—not that he’d do any chasing locally, anyway. His infrequent trips to Butte’s sparse gay scene barely scratched his itch. Yet, he only had himself to blame for his predicament. Cause and effect. The sudden and unexpected arrival of his new waiter could change that, but Sam was uncertain if he wanted it.

  The diner served only breakfast and lunch. Maybe it didn’t make the best business sense, but Sam didn’t give a crap. It was his place and he made the rules. They closed up at three and by four they were done with the cleanup. At 4:05 they stood at the back of the diner, reeking of frying oil and bacon. Sam frowned at the sight of the uncertain figure of Jay hovering at the threshold. Sam knew perfectly well he should keep his mouth shut.

  “Where are you staying?” he asked anyway.

  “Nowhere yet. I was gonna ask you if you could recommend somewhere cheap.” The way Jay looked at Sam, there was calculation in it, sure, but behind that hid something unguarded and raw that further ruffled Sam’s hard-won equilibrium.

  “You can stay with me for now,” he said quickly, before he could change his mind.

  The expression that lit up Jay’s face was an odd combination of shrewd and innocent. Sam had the sudden urge to put a whole new range of expressions on that face, but he quickly pushed those urges to the back of his mind.

  Chapter Two

  NT: So, got anything for me yet?

  SR: Not yet, but I’m working on it.

  NT: Do I have to remind you how important this is for the boss?

  SR: Hey, you got me following some very cold trails. I’m turning over every stone in sight. Something will turn up.

  Sam’s house sat on a quiet, tree-lined street. To Jay it seemed big, maybe only because it was so sparsely furnished. It had everything necessary, sturdy, quality furniture, but not much more—no knickknacks, no pictures, none of the clutter that made homes feel lived-in.

  “You just moved in?” Jay asked.

  “No. Five years ago. Why?”

  “Nothing. Just very tidy, I guess.”

  Sam gave him a quick tour.

  They walked back to the kitchen and then the living room, and down a hallway.

  “This is your room.” Sam stopped at the first door.

  The room was as basic as the rest of the house. It had a bed, dresser, closet and windows looking onto the backyard. The bed looked comfortable enough.

  “The bathroom is the last door down,” Sam added. “Go ahead and get clean.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll go after you.”

  Not the reply Jay was hoping for, but he didn’t yet know the rules. It paid to go along with the wishes of his host till he sussed those out. His previous sugar daddies were easy to figure out, but Sam gave all the signs of being a whole new category. Jay had a history of shacking up with moneyed older guys. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement—they took care of him financially, and they had a sweet young thang to take care of them in other ways. Technically, some guy who owned a diner in the middle of nowhere wasn’t much of a catch, but Jay’s libido didn’t give a rat’s ass. Slumming it for a little while wouldn’t kill him. Jay washed himself thoroughly, but didn’t linger. He walked out of the bathroom wrapped only in a towel, right past Sam’s room. The door was wide open, but the room was empty. Dang.

  He left his own door open while he dressed. Nothing. He sat on the bed. Then he lay back. He was just going to rest his eyes for a moment. By the time he woke up, darkness from outside poured into the room, filling it to the brim. The hum of a washing machine and the noises of Sam moving about drifted in from the farther reaches of the house, along with the homey smells of food cooking. Jay pushed himself off the bed. The pile of dirty clothes he’d left on the floor was gone. He followed the noise and smells to the kitchen. Sam looked right with a giant chef’s knife in hand. He didn’t use it to chop or slice though. He was using the flat of the blade to crush something small and white.

  “I bet those garlic cloves never saw it coming,” Jay joked.

  Sam looked up, surprised, but after a moment the corners of his lips curled up. Jay realized it was the first time he’d seen the other man smile. He liked it. A lot.

  “Hungry?” Sam asked.

  Jay nodded. “You’d think after cooking all day, you’d rather do anything else.”

  “Nah. That’s work. This is cooking. I like real food at the end of the day.”

  “Can I help?”

  They ate at the kitchen table. It was just spaghetti and meatballs, but much better than Jay would’ve made—for starters, it didn’t come from a can. Sam even put a bottle of red wine on the table, and they were steadily working their way to the bottom.

  “Fuck, that was good!” Jay mopped up the last bit of tomato sauce from his plate with a piece of garlic bread.

  Sam wordlessly acknowledged the praise. He looked more relaxed than he had all day. Jay’d noticed constant low-level tension in Sam, how he’d looked up every time the diner’s door opened. It was all gone now. The Sam sprawled out in his chair was like a different person—calm and self-possessed.

  “Where did you learn to cook?” Jay asked.

  “From my uncle.”

  “You’re Italian?”

  A shadow passed over Sam’s face. “On my mother’s side,” he replied. He didn’t offer any further details. “So what blew you into Coldwater?” he asked back instead.

  “I needed a change of scenery,” Jay hedged.

  “You’re not going to stick around long, are you?”

  Jay hesitated. He was guessing Sam was most concerned about losing his waitstaff again. He could’ve lied, but it seemed like a wasted effort. His own potential reason for staying wasn’t the job, but his boss, and that wasn’t likely to last. Sooner or later he’d fuck up or Sam would turn out to be just another asshole.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. I was headed for Seattle, but something made me stop here. I don’t really have plans.”

  “Fair enough. Do me a favor. Try to give me some warning before you skip town, so I can put the sign back in the window.”

  “What happened to the last person?”

  “Marylou ran away with a trucker and his huge handlebar mustache.”

  Jay grinned. “Sounds hot.”

  Sam rubbed a thumb at the back of his jaw. Jay noticed the faint line of an old scar there.

  “You can stay here as long as you’re in town. I don’t need rent. The place is big enough. You can give a hand around the house.”

  Jay nodded. That was pretty much a standard arrangement. He didn’t mind giving a hand, a mouth, and any other assorted body parts one bit.

  Jay waited all evening fo
r Sam to make a move. They chatted, mostly Jay prattling about things. He put out all the signals that he was ready and eager, but Sam ignored them. It was totally fucking confusing, because Sam had looked at him the whole time like a man contemplating dessert. When Jay was at last left alone in the kitchen without as much as a friendly grope, he felt truly perplexed. He dutifully turned off the lights and wandered to his own room.

  Stripping down to his briefs, he was still wondering what the hell was going on. Was this some sort of game? What were the rules? His hand strayed to his cock, half-hard since before he woke up from his nap. He made up his mind—fuck games. The door to the other bedroom was closed. Jay didn’t knock, just opened it and walked in. The sight that greeted him, Sam naked, palming his shaft, was exactly what he wished for. Man, was he gorgeous—all brawny flesh and dark body hair illuminated by the yellow light of the table lamp. Sam looked up without embarrassment or surprise. As if he’d been expecting this. Jay unceremoniously slipped out of his briefs and into the bed. Before he could do more, he was pinned to the mattress by his shoulders.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Sam said. He sounded serious, even detached, but at the same time his hard cock pressed between them. “I won’t throw you out if you don’t put out.”

  “What if I want to?” Jay rubbed his own erection into the muscular thighs holding him down.

  “Fine. As long as you understand this is not a business transaction or relationship,” Sam clarified.

  As if. “Just two guys who fuck. Got it.” Jay’s voice was only a touch sharp. Who did this guy take him for? “I’m not new to this, you know,” he added, just to make things clear.

  There was a moment of heavy stillness in which Jay wondered if he’d come to regret his snippiness. Sam was big and heavy over him, his expression unreadable. A sliver of fear shot through him. He was ashamed to realize that it excited him too. Sam’s lips stretched to a wide, teeth-baring grin, not making him any less intimidating, but he shifted some of his weight off Jay.