When a protective ex-cop helps his gorgeous tenant through his recovery, their complicated history is asking for trouble. Will the fear of the past repeating itself destroy any possibility of happiness?
Daredevil drifter Lawrence Crawford is hunting for a place to call home. After ten years of looking, he believes he’s found what he’s been searching for. With a job that pays the bills and a small group of friends he’s opening up to, he lets down his guard. Perhaps too much so. Finding himself in need of support, Lawrence is forced to accept help from the one man who’s been driving him to distraction for the past year. His landlord.
Former cop Billy Hilton made a mistake—admittedly there’ve been many over the years. The latest is when he lets Lawrence believe he isn’t interested in pursuing anything with him. It’s not even the age difference or the fact the guy lives in Billy’s studio apartment that’s the problem. Instead, it’s all him. When Billy offers to play nursemaid to Lawrence, his intentions may not be pure, but they’re honest. And that honesty blows their lives wide open when Lawrence’s past comes knocking on the door, demanding changes and threatening an upheaval neither man may ever recover from.
Book five in Becca Seymour’s stand-alone low-angst, feel-good LGBTQ series, True-blue. In this small town, there are busybodies, dogs who cause chaos, families who have the “best” of timing, and opportunities for good men to find their perfect match.
True Blue, Book 6
I flicked a quick glance behind me, rewarded immediately by Lawrence’s attention on my ass, his bottom lip clamped between his teeth. Immediately I turned away, thankful as hell that that look from him was enough to prevent my self-loathing from bubbling to the surface.
Finishing up, I double-checked the tightness of the fitting, then eased back. Standing, I turned and said, “You did a great job fixing this up. Thanks.”
The smile he offered was tentative, shy, and sweet as hell. “It’s all good,” he answered with a shrug. “You want to get me the sealant and I’ll get it—”
“No, it’s cool. I’ll do it.” The slow trail my gaze made down his body was deliberate as I said, “Aren’t you off for a run?” I’d already spotted his skateboard near the front door when I’d entered. And if he wasn’t on the death trap of a board, he was off running.
Lawrence shifted a little, the pink in his cheeks returning. The color looked too good there for me to feel guilty for pushing him into a reaction. My bastard status was strong. I knew this, but I needed a reaction from the guy. Only then could I start figuring out the way to make this right.
An apology had already happened.
He’d accepted it graciously, but his hurt had remained palpable. I’d definitely apologize again, but I needed to do more.
“Yeah. Just a short one. Only going to do five miles today.”
I nodded, a little envious that five miles were so easy for him. He had youth and fitness on his side. My leg had never quite recovered, my knee especially giving me a problem. At times I felt like a crusty old fart. And with winter doing a number on me, making me ache and limp, I felt that way even more in the colder months.
“I can do this while you’re out, if that’s okay?” We stepped into the open living space, and I looked around, noticing a few chips of paint and that the place wasn’t looking its best.
“Yeah, that’s fine.”
“Looks like this place could do with a fresh coat of paint too,” I added, feeling bad that the place was looking a bit shabby.
“Oh.” Lawrence shrugged. “I don’t mind. It’s dry and comfortable. Plus the air conditioning works,” he said, his smile this time fuller and genuine.
“Well, that’s good at least, but I do want to get a lick of paint on the walls.” I paused, eyes roaming the place, giving my mind time to percolate on the idea that was forming. I internally grimaced at the plan… the playing of games, but spending time with the guy, giving him the chance to see I wasn’t always an asshole, was the only possible way forward.
Before I’d ruined everything, our friendship had been growing. We’d shared more than a few beers and meals together. And while I knew he had a birthmark on his right hip, which I’d lavished attention on, I didn’t know the deep stuff. I didn’t even know if he had family, as he guarded some parts of his past closely. And that was all on me.
I wanted to know the guy.
Becca Seymour lives and breathes all things book related. Usually with at least three books being read and two WiPs being written at the same time, life is merrily hectic. She tends to do nothing by halves so happily seeks the craziness and busyness life offers.
Living on her small property in Queensland with her human family as well as her animal family of cows, chooks, and dogs, Becca appreciates the beauty of the world around her and is a believer that love truly is love.
Connect with Becca: