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  Love on the Fox

  Zach Jenkins

  Love on the Fox

  Zach Jenkins

  Copyright © 2017 Zach Jenkins

  All rights reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without express written permission of the copyright holder. This book contains sexually explicit content which is suitable only for mature adults.

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  Contents

  Love on Fire

  Prologue

  1. Ezra

  2. Clay

  3. Ezra

  4. Clay

  5. Ezra

  6. Clay

  7. Ezra

  8. Clay

  9. Ezra

  10. Clay

  11. Ezra

  12. Clay

  13. Ezra

  14. Clay

  15. Ezra

  16. Clay

  17. Ezra

  18. Clay

  19. Ezra

  20. Clay

  21. Ezra

  22. Clay

  23. Ezra

  24. Clay

  25. Ezra

  26. Clay

  27. Ezra

  28. Clay

  29. Ezra

  Truth on Fire

  1. David

  2. Quinn

  3. David

  4. Quinn

  5. David

  6. Quinn

  7. David

  8. Quinn

  9. David

  10. Quinn

  11. David

  12. Quinn

  13. David

  14. Quinn

  15. David

  16. David

  17. Quinn

  18. David

  19. Quinn

  20. David

  21. Quinn

  22. Quinn

  23. David

  24. Quinn

  25. David

  26. Quinn

  27. David

  28. David

  29. Quinn

  30. David

  31. Quinn

  32. David

  33. Quinn

  34. David

  Choice on Fire

  1. Maxwell

  2. Brick

  3. Maxwell

  4. Brick

  5. Maxwell

  6. Brick

  7. Maxwell

  8. Brick

  9. Maxwell

  10. Brick

  11. Maxwell

  12. Brick

  13. Maxwell

  14. Brick

  15. Maxwell

  16. Brick

  17. Maxwell

  18. Brick

  19. Maxwell

  20. Brick

  21. Maxwell

  22. Brick

  23. Maxwell

  24. Brick

  25. Maxwell

  26. Brick

  27. Maxwell

  28. Brick

  29. Maxwell

  30. Brick

  31. Maxwell

  32. Brick

  33. Maxwell

  34. Brick

  Night on Fire

  1. Inigo

  2. Levi

  3. Inigo

  4. Levi - Months later

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  About the Author

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  Love on Fire

  Zach Jenkins

  Prologue

  Clay

  Clay walked away in the middle of his third conversation in a row when the guy he had been talking to started nibbling on his girlfriend’s neck. Everyone already had a date. Clay was clearly the odd man out at the graduation party. Nothing new there, really. He always had trouble talking to women.

  He stepped into the back yard to clear his head.

  He would have left to go home, but he had ridden with David, who was busy flirting with one of the girls from their English class, who had spent an entire year ignoring his advances.

  Graduation was making everyone crazy.

  The rain quickly got his shirt wet, but cooled his skin. The house was hot and sweaty as hell from the crowd. He decided to stay outside for a little while and cool off. He jogged over to the huge tree that filled the back yard, thinking it might keep him a little dryer. The long, thin branches felt cool and refreshing against his skin while he pushed through to get to the open space close to the trunk.

  “Shit!” a voice called out from the other side of the trunk. “You scared me. I thought you were some kind of giant dog crashing around back here.”

  “Sorry.” Clay squinted as he inched around the tree, trying to find the owner of the voice he didn’t recognize.

  “It’s okay. You just set my heart racing is all. Not entirely unpleasant now that I know who you are.”

  Clay stopped when he saw the tall, slim man leaning with his back against the tree. The guy’s hair dangled down into his eyes. Clay almost started back to the house. The only kind of people that would be standing in the rain during the party would be doing drugs. He didn’t want to get involved with that scene. The next stop in his life after high school was to get enrolled at community college for the firefighter training program. He couldn’t afford to get busted doing pot and throw all of that away. It was the only plan he had.

  “Hey. You’re Clay, right? The football guy from art class.”

  Ezra. The name finally clicked. Clay had frequently caught himself watching the guy draw. He always leaned heavily over his paper, with his hair dangling down, much like the branches of the willow tree. His finished projects had always impressed Clay. Instead of just showing what he was drawing, Ezra had a way of making it feel deeper. More alive.

  More alive? What the hell? I should just walk home. This party is a bust.

  Instead, he just stood there with his mouth half-opened.

  Ezra made the first move and held out his hand.

  Clay managed to grab it and give it a little shake before pulling away. “Yeah. You’re Ezra Something. I mean, I’m sure that’s not your last name. Of course not, but I don’t remember it right now. Smith?”

  Ezra shook his head, smiled, but didn’t offer his last name.

  Clay continued his bumbling. “It’ll come to me. You’re a runner, right? Henderson? No, that’s not it. Track?”

  Ezra’s long, wet hair flopped from side to side when he shook his head. “Cross country. Why? Are you a running fan?”

  “Hell no. I mean not for pleasure. Is it for you? Pleasurable? Running? Laps are punishment for mistakes in my sport. Coach really likes that. The punishing. I think I saw you on the track the other day when I was coming in early to lift.”

  Clay finally stopped talking. He let out a breath, exhausted at all the work.

  Ezra’s eyes jumped from Clay’s face to his chest and then his biceps. Clay’s muscles clenched at the attention.

  That’s right. The gay guy. Oh God. Is he checking me out? Did I come on to him?

  The air felt thick under the branches all of the sudden. He needed to get back to the party, to where things made sense again.

  His feet refused to move. His mouth refused not to. “You looked good out there. Running. Not the shorts. Those were way short. Not that I... Long, smooth stride. You were practically flying through the air. Very graceful. Pretty. The morning. Not you, of course.”

  He bit his own lip to get himself to shut the fuck up.

  “You liked watching me run? I wish I would have known. I definitely would have come watch you lift.” Ezra placed hi
s open palm on Clay’s chest. “That must be a sight to see.”

  Nothing made sense in the moment. He couldn’t stop staring at Ezra’s lips. Clay’s feet wouldn’t move him away. He arched his back to lean away, praying that Ezra would stop doing whatever was freezing him in place. His heart pounded in his chest. He couldn’t feel his toes.

  What the fuck is going on? I must be crazy. Next, I’ll be heading to the Army recruiter and signing my life away. Gay guys definitely don’t go to the Army.

  Ezra smiled, “You’re silly, but you’re cute and I think I know what you want.”

  Ezra leaned forward. Clay, afraid to move in any direction, did nothing.

  Just before their lips touched, the back door banged open. “Damn, it’s raining. Pass me that joint so I can take a puff and get back inside.”

  Clay and Ezra froze, still just inches apart.

  “They can’t see us under here,” Ezra said. “They’ll never know.”

  It would be their little secret. One last wild moment before they shed their childhoods for good and moved on to their adult lives. If Clay was interested in knowing what it would be like to kiss a man, this would be his one chance.

  What do I have to lose?

  And he might have, but couldn’t shake knowing that the people smoking the joint on the porch might get tired of the rain and seek shelter under the tree. He couldn’t let himself get discovered kissing a man.

  Firemen didn’t do things like that.

  “What are you doing out here in the rain, Clay?” Ezra asked.

  “I’m stuck here. My car is dead.” He heard himself rambling. Talking about his car was easy. He should have been doing that all along. “It’s not even worth fixing and I don’t have the money anyway. I’ll probably just save up for a while and buy a pickup. Those are more practical for guys like me.”

  “Indeed,” Ezra replied. “Big, strong men like you should have big, strong trucks for your manly chores. But why are you out here with me instead of inside?”

  “Oh. Well, my friend David. I rode with him. He’s inside getting shot down by a girl. He’ll be at that all night. So I figured I’d wait outside.”

  “I won’t shoot you down.”

  Clay was glad for the dark night to hide the blush he felt warming his cheeks. He couldn’t deny the temptation, though. Didn’t everyone try something like this once? he reasoned. With a firm nod to convince himself, he leaned forward again.

  Ezra smiled. The guy looked adorable. He had tucked his hair behind his ears somehow without Clay noticing. Even in the dark, the house gave off enough light for Clay to see Ezra’s blue eyes.

  Guys like me don’t notice other men’s eyes. We won’t ever be sitting around the fire station checking out each other’s eyes.

  Clay panicked. He needed to get away from this situation before it went too far and made him into something that he most certainly was not.

  “Sorry, Ezra. I can’t. Guys aren’t my thing. Good luck with wherever your travels take you.”

  Ezra backed up and leaned against the tree again. Clay wished he could see those eyes again, but knew he’d probably just see a man who was hurt and confused.

  Much like himself.

  He turned and ran toward David’s car, cursing everything that was happening.

  Just as he broke free of the branches, the back door slammed open once more.

  “Goddamn girls! Who fucking needs them? Clay, you out here? I’m going home. If you want a ride, you better get to my damn car before it starts moving.”

  Clay sighed. The bizarre moment had passed. Everything would be okay now.

  1

  Ezra

  “Argh!” Ezra shouted, slamming his palms against the steering wheel.

  His phone had died overnight, preventing the alarm from waking him on time. The USB connector on his cell phone was getting loose and he still had three months until his contract renewed. Although if the trend of bounced checks continued, he wouldn’t be getting a new phone then, either. The mail service always seemed to work perfectly when he needed a delay.

  The only good news about being stuck in the Chicago traffic was that it gave the phone a chance to charge. When he set the phone in the cup holder, and wrapped the charging cable around the shifter it worked, as long as he avoided potholes.

  He briefly wondered whether taking the back roads would be quicker and then laughed. He lived in Chicago. There was no better way to get to anywhere. All the ways sucked.

  The phone rang. It had to be his mother, since the collection agencies wouldn’t be after him for at least a few more weeks. He started to reach for the phone, but the traffic started, rolled forward a few feet and ground to a stop. Then repeated it all again.

  Ezra blamed his need to focus on the road for not answering, but in reality he just didn’t want to talk to his mother. He loved her to pieces, but she would ask him when he was coming home for a visit and he would be too weak. He would end up using it as an excuse to run back home and away from his problems.

  Even with all of the mess his morning had become, his biggest concern was missing Ms. Parker’s appointment. She came in every fourth Thursday, right when the shop opened. She only allowed him to cut her hair because, in her words, none of the other twits could get the job done properly.

  Ezra loved Ms. Parker. She reminded him of his own mother with the way she doted over him and sass-talked everyone else.

  He felt bad because she volunteered at her grandson’s school late in the mornings after getting her hair styled. While Ezra worked his magic with his thin fingers, Ms. Parker spent the time praising the amazing, and very single, principal Frank Smithers. She clearly had a crush, but firmly clucked her tongue and reminded Ezra that just because he was gay and a beautician didn’t mean that he needed to be a gossip, too.

  Ezra had cut her hair every month for the last year, and each time Ms. Parker left a big tip to reward his magic and bounced out of the salon on her way to try to convince Mr. Smithers that he might be interested in flirting with a sweet single lady.

  Ezra didn’t care much for the hipsters that rolled their eyes and spent most of their time in his chair staring at their cell phones, but ladies like Ms. Parker easily balanced any grief the hipsters caused.

  Distraught at the thought of sending Ms. Parker off to battle without the confidence of a fresh cut, or even worse, with a haircut from one of the other hacks, Ezra yelled profanities at his neighboring drivers. They were all trapped just as miserably as he, though. An hour later, he finally got to his exit three miles further down the road. From there, he only had two minutes to try and think of yet another excuse to tell Veronica, the lady who owned the salon where he worked.

  He needed more time because he had used plenty of excuses already over the last couple of months. He was self-aware enough to realize that going from zero tardies to at least one a week was probably yet another indication that things weren’t going well in the big city.

  After growing up gay in the suburbs, moving to the city had seemed to be the Mecca of gay life. Reality had been much harsher. Expenses were astronomical. Traffic was horrendous. Worst of all, he hadn’t had any luck finding any hot, young gay men to date. The last guy had been a middle-aged, balding accountant with a paunch. Not that there was anything wrong with the guy. He had been very sweet, but Ezra wanted a bigger spark.

  What was the point of moving to the big city if he was just going to end up with regular, boring people that commuted to and from the suburbs anyway?

  I should go back and visit Mom this weekend. I could use some of her meatloaf and creamy potatoes rather than the crap that I cook in the microwave.

  Ms. Parker had already left by the time Ezra walked into the salon. The place had six chairs, two more than the salon his mom ran out of her house. The five women who were busy snipping hair, all turned as one when he entered. Their eyes darted to Veronica, sitting at the front counter, and then back to the hair they were cutting.

 
She smiled at Ezra. She never smiled. It did nothing to comfort Ezra.

  “Ezra. Out back. Now.”

  The pretty mother of three had a voice that would have fit better in a truck stop when she talked to Ezra. They were a classic case of oil and vinegar. If he hadn’t been so good at his job, she would have fired him months ago.

  Ezra followed her through the salon, trying to focus on appreciating the Zen feel the bamboo and running water fountains created. Normally soothing, the trickling water pricked at his ears as he smiled weakly at the other stylists on his way to the small office in the back of the salon.