Outside the Lines Read online

  Electrifying. Hell.

  “Ian Meyers.”

  His shy smile played with my nerves in wicked ways, and we both let go at the same time. I could almost hear Lydia whispering in my ear, Go for it. Except whenever I did, I got shot down hard. I’d given up on men long ago, at least in these kinds of situations.

  Being poly and a bisexual guy was asking for trouble. We stuck to swinging with other couples and all the guys were straight, so I got to look, but not touch. Bi guys weren’t exactly welcome as swingers.

  Ian? I really wanted to touch Ian. Would never happen, though. “Do you need somewhere to build it, too? I mean, if the paint has to dry quickly, this is a great space. We keep the humidity down, or try to, for the books and comics.” I nodded to the bread-and-butter section of the store. “Plus, if you need anything . . .”

  Ian’s grin wasn’t so shy now. “I suspect you don’t have stunt artists running around playing hacky sack in the aisles, either.”

  “No, not usually.” I laughed. “Though some of the crew do come in for their comic fix. Not sure who’s who.”

  Ian seemed startled by that tidbit of info. “You don’t have any trouble with the fans?” He nodded in the direction of our next-door neighbor, Howling Moon.

  “You’d think they’d come in here too, right?” That had been our hope when they’d opened next door.

  Ian nodded.

  “Some do, but far fewer than you’d expect. They can get Wolf’s Landing comics at their local stores. Here, they’re only interested in the stuff you can’t find anywhere else. Other than the comics and the books, we can’t sell anything Wolf’s Landing, so they glance around at the comics and leave.”

  Ian wore a shocked expression again. “You . . . can’t sell Wolf’s Landing stuff?”

  “Not anymore. They licensed all the merchandise to certain vendors once the TV series hit big.” Which had been about the same time Howling Moon had opened. “Makes sense, in a way. Don’t want one shop poaching from another.”

  “But you can still sell the comics?” Ian focused on the new issues racks with such a longing that I wanted to slide up to him and give him a hug. Desire, loss, and need played across Ian’s face. Part sexy, part heartbreaking.

  I’d seen that before. In parents who wandered in with their kids and in those who came in off the street “just to look around,” as they said. Had usually collected comics as kids, but stopped, or had their issues thrown out, or something like that.

  I wondered what Ian’s story was. “Well, there’s really only one distributer for comics. Not even Hollywood can break that monopoly. We get the Wolf’s Landing issues in with all the other comics.”

  Ian nodded absently, that yearning still etched in his face. He clenched and unclenched his hands.

  So far gone. “You collect?”

  He shoved his fingers through his hair. “Used to. No time now, and Anna will have my balls if I don’t get this set finished.”

  I croaked, and he got the most wicked smile.

  Yeah, I kind of wanted his balls. In my mouth. But explaining everything about my life? That shit took time, and I wasn’t fooling around with anyone until I told them about my situation. Of course, that inevitably led to never seeing the guy again. Ah well. “So, when do you want to get started?”

  Now his grin was straight from the devil. “On the set?”

  Fuck, yeah, he knew I was into him. “I— Yeah. The set.” Heat on my face. “I’m in the shop every day, so I’m available whenever.”

  “For the set.” That smoldering gaze burned straight down to my dick and balls.

  I wasn’t going to get out of this gracefully. Might as well head toward what we both wanted . . . and then get shot down in flames. I swallowed my fear. “Let’s start with the set.”

  Ian had eyes I could drown in. A smile too. “Okay,” he said. “Then you’re on for tomorrow.”

  I struggled to find a sexy or witty reply, but was saved by Ian’s phone whistling.

  “Fuck,” he muttered, and whipped the cell phone out. “Shit. I’m gonna be late for a meeting.” He met my gaze. “I’m sorry. I gotta run.”

  “No problem. I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

  His grin was perfection and he did that up-down number again, practically undressing me with his eyes. “I hope so.” He turned and headed out the door.

  Well, here we go. I watched the trail Ian blazed and returned to my model. It seemed such a dull, amateur job now. Much like my flirting.

  But if there was one thing I’d learned over the years—you had to keep trying.

  I spent the rest of the day attempting to work, but thinking about Ian. After he left, I’d sat down at my table and picked up a paintbrush, but my hands had been too unsteady to go back to painting the model.

  Instead, I wandered up to the front of the store to help Jesse shelve and board issues until I’d stopped vibrating. If he noticed my distraction or bounciness, he gave no sign. Sometimes, I wondered if he’d put some pieces about me and Lydia together—we tried to keep our polyamory on the down-low in town, but you couldn’t hide everything. And Jesse wasn’t an idiot.

  If he knew, he obviously didn’t care. He was our best employee. Lydia and I often talked about making him assistant manager, should her career take off.

  Once I calmed my ass—and dick—down, and my hands were back to their steady state, I returned to my models.

  A little before four, Lydia emerged from her studio in the back of the shop and found me with a brush in hand. Sometimes, we worked the same hours, sometimes not, depending on the schedules of our other employees and what freelance lettering and coloring jobs Lydia had going on. She’d been on several tight deadlines for clients the past week or two, but given her bright smile and the crinkles around her eyes, she was done with at least one of them.

  Which meant Chinese take-out for dinner. God bless her clients and deadlines. Pretty much the only time I got my egg foo yung fix was when she turned impossible tasks around on time.

  I put down the ship I was painting—same one I’d been working on when Ian had come into the store. Lydia leaned over and gave me a peck. Her lips tasted faintly of tea.

  “You seem happy.” I cleaned the brush I’d been using in a cup of water, shaped the tip, and laid it down to dry.

  “Finally finished one of my lettering jobs. Wasn’t easy with all those different speech types they wanted, but God, the comic’s great.” She peered down at me. “Si, you’re beaming. What’s up? They let you order those Wolf’s Landing miniatures in?”

  Heat rose to my face and Lydia’s lips parted a fraction. “Kind of, but not really?”

  She gave me her patented do go on look.

  “One of the prop guys came by from Wolf’s Landing, looking for supplies. Some stunt dude fell on his miniature set.” I filled her in on the rest of the story and how Ian would be rebuilding the set here. I left out the part about him seemingly mentally stripping the clothing from my body with every glance.

  “The sacred grove. Oh my god, Si, that’s fantastic!” She gripped my shoulder. “And you get to help?” She knew it was a dream come true.

  “Maybe? We’ll see.” I paused for a second and gulped down a breath of air. Time for the rest. “I think he was checking me out.” Think? Knew.

  Lydia’s smile widened. “Please tell me you flirted back this time?”

  Yeah, my wife knew me well. To be honest, I was hopeless with any gender and turned klutzy and dorky the minute I was the least bit attracted. I didn’t flirt well—but I did flirt. She’d seen that firsthand.

  “Maybe we should talk about the rest of that over dinner?” Some close friends knew about our open marriage and our polyamory, but it was not exactly something we went around blurting out, especially not in the middle of our store. Washington state may lean liberal, but not every place here did.

  She glanced at her watch. “Let me ask Jesse if he wants anything, and I’ll go grab some Chi
nese.” A moment later, she vanished past the graphic novel display.

  Score. Egg foo yung heaven awaited.

  I eyed my half-painted spaceship. I wouldn’t be finishing it tonight, not between talking to my wife and chowing down, so I closed up the paints and packed everything away.

  If only most things in my life were that easy to handle.

  Standing in Anna’s office, I watched as she perfected her expression—a cross between you’re out of your mind and explain that to me again. “You want to build your set in town, in a comic-book store?”

  I tried not to shrink into myself, because my plan was a good one. Anna was intimidating, but fair when she understood why you wanted to do something unorthodox. “It’s been raining all day. It’s going to rain for the next couple of days.”

  She rubbed her forehead. “Don’t remind me.” The shooting schedule had been upended completely due to the weather, which happened pretty much every month unless we were filming scenes in the rain. On the other hand, everyone marveled at how authentic the downpours appeared on the show.

  It had also been warmer than normal for this time of year, leading to very sticky and damp conditions. “I know the shop trailers are supposed to be cool and dry and—”

  “They’re swamp-like right now.”

  “The set will dry faster at the store. There’s supplies on hand, and the owner offered me a space to work free of falling stuntmen.”

  Anna flinched. Not much, but enough. “Build a set in public, though?”

  I shrugged. “Everyone knows the grove’s going up in a fireball. The book’s been out for years. And the graphic novel. And the comic. And . . .”

  Anna held up her hand. “You’ll have it done when you said?”

  “Cross my heart.” I did too. Still had enough Catholic in me for that.

  “Fine. Go. Do.” She gestured at the door.

  She didn’t have to say it twice. A moment later, I was out of her hot and humid trailer, and heading across the lot to my car. All the salvaged bits from the miniature set were packed, along with the base, the plans, and the few supplies I had. I’d loaded my Mini as soon as the drizzle started. Waiting for rain to let up was pointless out here—it only ever got worse before better. That could take days. Ah, the Pacific Northwest. So very . . . moist.

  I booked it to the parking lot though I didn’t know if it was the rain or the prospect of seeing Simon again that had me walking so fast. Oh hell, who was I kidding? It was Simon. His eyes, his hands, the way his shirt clung to his chest. Yeah, lust had gotten a grip on me, but there were things I liked about Simon other than enough perfection to get my dick hard.

  Simon was kind. Friendly. A geek, like me. And he could paint. Understood miniatures, even if they weren’t the movie-set kind. Not the type of guy I normally found around here. Mostly, I ended up meeting men who were only interested in Wolf’s Landing or worse—they were employed by Wolf’s Landing.

  Lots of people on set fished off the same pier. It worked for some, like Carter Samuels and Levi Pritchard, our star-crossed big-name actors. And Anna and Natalya.

  Heck, I’d gone spelunking into the pool of available guys a couple of times, but it was damn awkward when a one-night stand fizzled into regret . . . and you had to say “Yo” to that dude the next day. And the next . . . and the next. After the third “Oops maybe not, man,” I’d stopped. Better to take things into my own hand, so to speak, than spend weeks cringing when we bumped into each other on the job.

  But Simon? Simon was gorgeous, engaging, and worked in town. Couldn’t ask for a better chance. I was dying to see if I’d imagined that spark of interest. Still, I took my sweet time driving over to the shop. The cops liked to sit on this stretch of road, and the rain had gone from annoying to insulting. Fastest setting on the wipers wasn’t cutting it. I’d bought this car for sunny and dry California, not rain-soaked Washington state.

  By the time I pulled up in front of End o’ Earth, my heart was thudding against my ribs. This was the start. One set. One comics guy with a wicked smile, and me. Had it been my imagination yesterday? Na. Dude was a flirt. I was a flirt.

  We could be flirts together.

  Before I unpacked the monstrosity of the base and all the items stuffed into my car, I ducked into the shop to see if Simon was ready. It was after lunch and I didn’t know if he was in. We hadn’t discussed the time—only that I would be here today.

  I dashed through the door, and this time, there was a woman behind the counter: neon red hair, a nose piercing, and some wicked tats up her arm. Her smile was bright. “Hey, how’s it going?”

  “Good! Well, other than the rain.”

  She gave me an eyeroll that I recognized as Oh, this one’s a California boy. “Yeah, puts a damper on the day, huh?”

  I snorted. “Or at least makes everything damp.”

  Apparently, my charm washed out, given her unimpressed raised eyebrow.

  I cleared my throat. “Is Simon in? He was expecting me.”

  That had her straightening up. “Yeah, hang on.” She opened a door behind the counter and called inside. “Si? There’s a guy here for you.”

  Yeah, I was here for him. I had to bite my tongue to keep from smirking. I had no poker-face whatsoever, and I wasn’t certain I wanted the fiery comics gal to know I was macking on her boss.

  Simon appeared at the door and met my gaze . . . and I’m not sure what expression I had, because comics gal took one look at me and punched him in the arm. Simon only widened his grin, which formed dimples on his cheeks.

  Glad I hadn’t tucked my shirt in, because dimples were kryptonite to my self-control. “Uh . . .” And to the ability to put words together. “I have . . . stuff.” I pointed behind me. “In the car.”

  Sometime during my brilliant use of the English language, Simon had rounded the counter and had come to a stop next to me. He was slightly taller. Right. I’d forgotten that part.

  “Shall we get your stuff?” Simon held my gaze a bit longer, as if he knew he’d shorted out my mind with his smile, his hair, and those lips. Then he peered out the door and crinkled his brow. “I think there’s a lull in the rain.”

  That’s when my brain engaged. “I didn’t think rain ever lulled here.” We moved toward the door, side by side, but he paused to let me go first.

  “Been known to happen. Count your lucky stars.”

  “Astronomical or Hollywood?”

  Simon let out a bark of laughter as I unlocked the car. He sobered pretty quickly. “I can’t believe you got that much into a Mini Cooper.”

  I shrugged. “I’m good at squeezing things into tight places.”

  Simon made a sound that might have been a swallowed giggle and wouldn’t meet my eyes at all. His skin held a blush nicely, though. “I suppose that’s a good talent to have.”

  “Never got any complaints from my ex-boyfriends.”

  Simon met my gaze, and his smile was wicked. “Really?”

  Gotcha. “Really.” I opened the Dutch doors to my Clubman. “Ten more inches than the regular Mini, and I know how to use every extra inch.”

  “Wow.” Simon’s eyes never left mine. “Your exes must have been fools.”

  Some of them, yeah. But I was far from perfect. I bumped Simon with my shoulder. “Let’s get this stuff unloaded before it starts raining again.”

  His smile was a nice combo of turned on and shy. We pulled out bags of supplies and boxes and ferried them all into his shop. Didn’t take long to unbury the base of the set.

  “It’s bigger than I thought.” Simon rubbed his chin.

  “Too big?” I didn’t want to overtake his store with my problem. The guy still had a business to run.

  “No.” His grin was toothy and melted my bones. “I can take it.”

  Holy shit. My turn to have screaming hot cheeks. I totally deserved that line, and the smirk Simon gave me.

  “Mostly, I’m worried about getting this through the door.”

  We manag
ed, though, with a bit of maneuvering and help from comics gal, whose name turned out to be Dexy.

  “That short for anything?”

  She sighed. “Yeah. Dexys Midnight Runners, the eighties band. Dad really liked them.”

  When I glanced at Simon, he held up both hands. “Honest to God, it’s true.”

  Dexy showed me her license. Given that her middle name was Eileen, Dad must have been a huge fan. “I’ll be damned.”

  She gave a little rueful smile. “I like it now. It’s unique.”

  Sure was. With her help, we got everything back to the tables Simon had been painting on the day before. “You boys have fun,” she said, before sauntering off to the counter.

  “Um. Is she actually old enough to call us boys?”

  Simon shook his head. “Not nearly.” His delightful smile was back and it warmed my blood.

  I focused on the table, rather than on Simon, and that kept me from being too obvious. I hoped. “Well, this is it.” I waved at the base of the model and all the bits. “Looks great, huh?”

  Silence. I chanced a glance over, and Simon was rubbing his chin. “You’re gonna build a grove in a week out of this?”

  “Yup.”

  His gaze met mine. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

  “Hey! I’m a professional!” I clapped him on the shoulder. “Trust me.” Beneath my hand, he was warm and tense, and I loathed to let go. But that seemed the best move.

  Such an adorable smile. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

  Oh, so much. But the clock was ticking, and Anna’s exacting filming schedule needed a set more than I needed a blowjob. The latter could wait. “Start unpacking the bags, and I’ll show you the plans and the photos of what this looked like before a stunt dude fell on it.”

  We got to work emptying the bags and setting out the supplies I’d brought, plus my tackle box of tools. Yeah, I could have used one of those expensive art boxes, but I liked going old school—with an expensive fishing box, instead. At one point, Dexy called Simon to the front of the store, and I took a moment to admire his back and ass as he headed to the counter.