Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 3

away, he rushed to the guest bath and jerked a towel from the rack. When he returned to the foyer, he found Taylor standing on the cotton rug just inside the closed door, shivering. He handed him the pale green towel.
    In silence, Taylor dried his hair and face then rubbed the towel over his soaked shirt and jeans, mopping up most of the running water. Daren watched for a minute then he gestured toward the bathroom.
    "You can dry off in there. I was just about to make some tea."
    Taylor nodded. "You got enough Earl Grey for two?"
    "Of course."
    Daren turned away, but before he could take more than one step, Taylor caught his elbow. He looked back at his friend. Amber eyes had darkened to deep gold and emotion swirled in the depths.
    "I need to talk, and I need you to listen. I wasn't standing out there in the rain because I'm crazy, Daren."
    His heart lurched painfully. "I don't think you're crazy, Taylor."
    Taylor nodded, then turned toward the bathroom, leaving Daren with his head spinning.
    As Daren boiled water, dug out mugs, tea bags and sugar, his thoughts ran the gamut of bad news. Taylor had a terminal illness, was moving away, moving in with a woman, in love, getting married… Panic started to take hold inside him. Daren dropped his forehead to the cool granite countertop.
    No, no, no , he moaned silently. His throat ached with a rush of unshed tears. He was so fucked. He so could not get his act together with regard to Taylor. Maybe it would be best if Taylor was in a relationship or moved away. Then Daren could tell the optimistic and idealistic side of his brain and heart to give it up. Give Taylor up.
    "What's wrong?"
    The deep concerned tones caught him off guard and he jerked upright, his gaze rushing to meet Taylor's. Cautious amber eyes stared back at him and he knew without a doubt that Taylor was hiding something from him. Drawing a steadying breath, his mouth kicked up in a half smile.
    "Nothing. Just berating myself for not offering you dry clothes." Daren gestured toward the pale green towel around Taylor's shoulders, a towel that matched the one around his lean waist.
    Taylor shrugged and smiled wryly. "I'm not cold any longer. I stepped into your shower for a minute with the water on scalding. Besides, your clothes are way too small for me."
    Daren scowled as he poured boiling water in the two mugs and dropped in the tea bags. He slid one across the counter toward Taylor, then dumped a teaspoon of sugar in his own cup. "I'm not that much smaller than you. Worst case scenario is that a t-shirt would be a little tight in the shoulders and my sweats would be too short. Of course, that would make you look like a dork and not the rock star that you are," he said teasingly.
    Taylor snorted. "Rock star. Yeah, right. Maybe to the locals, but to the world, I'm still a struggling musician without a record deal."
    "Only a matter of time, babe."
    Daren walked into the living room and turned on the gas fireplace. The fake logs made a crackling sound. He pulled a chenille blanket off a brass quilt rack and held it out to Taylor.
    "It's warmer and drier than those damp towels," he said gruffly and turned away to close the blinds that had been open to the storm.
    He heard the rustle of cloth as Taylor removed the towels and wrapped the blanket around himself. Turning back, Daren caught a glimpse of bare hip before Taylor sank into an overstuffed green corduroy chair before the fireplace. His best friend still looked pale and cold despite his assurance that he wasn't.
    Daren took the damp towels from Taylor and tossed them over the quilt rack before plopping down in the chair opposite his friend. He tried not to stare at the sight of Taylor's big body wrapped in the small thin blanket. Hot ribbons of lust fired his veins. God. Why had he opened the damn door? An almost naked Taylor in his house was sheer torture. Daren decided to take refuge in speech.
    "Why were you staring at my house in the middle of the night, in the middle of a storm?"
    The words fell between them with a rush of sound, a thump like a dead body hitting the floor as Taylor stared at him with an expression Daren would have called bleak on anyone else. But he knew that while Taylor was sometimes prone to being moody and dark, the extreme goth expression of doom and gloom was so not Taylor. In fact, Taylor's expression baffled him. The guy should have been flying high after a great performance.
    Briefly, Daren wondered if this was the death