His Hart's Command (Nothing Special 6)

Hart’s home was masculine and welcoming. Free’s favorite, so far, was the large screen television mounted over a stone-walled fireplace. It was beautiful. The furniture was deep green and oversized. One massive recliner sat at the end of the sectional, with a tattered throw draped across the back. A few magazines and four different remote controls were scattered over a coffee table centered in front of the couch.

The home was comfy and looked good-and-lived-in. He moved past Hart, not saying anything as he walked around his space. He could feel that the big man was edgy, so he didn’t want to crowd him. He wanted to show him this didn’t have to be scary. Free stopped at some built-in shelves and surveyed the multiple knickknacks and photographs. One looked to be of Hart when he was young. He was standing in front of a red barn with another guy about the same age—both beaming teenagers.

Another of Hart, standing proud in his SWAT uniform. Some of him with his team. An elderly couple, who had to be Hart’s parents, because the bushy beard on the handsome older man was a dead giveaway. And at least three of him with God: fishing, standing side-by-side in full tack gear, then standing with their arms around each other’s shoulders at a Falcons’ game. Lastly, Free paused at a hilarious photo of seven men all varying in age, sitting on stools with females in front of them with serious grips on their long beards, smirking cheekily back at the camera. Free turned and pointed at that one, wanting an explanation.

Hart’s lip turned up in the corner as he approached Free slowly. The man was walking sex and it made his knees wanna knock together. Free bit his bottom lip, trying not to eye-fuck the hell out of his host.

“That’s most of the men in my family.” Hart pointed to the individual guys as a broader smile graced his handsome face. “That’s my father and my stepmom in front of him. My four brothers with their wives, and that’s my baby brother with his girlfriend. My uncle with his fifth wife.” Hart’s laugh was deep and soothing.

Free didn’t widen his eyes when Hart said that was his uncle’s fifth wife, no, he was more interested in the meaning of the picture.

“You’re wondering what’s with holding the beards, huh?” Hart smiled, watching him. “All of us can get pretty hairy. Just runs in the genes. We might not like our hairy shoulders, but, don’t mistake how much we love our beards. It kind of became a funny quote in our family to say a woman had us by the beard. We’d say that if we were…ya’ know…”

Free stared into those icy blue eyes, captivated. He moved closer without thought, eliminating any distance separating them. Hart’s body vibrated and gave off an amazing amount of heat. “If you were…what? Finish.”

Hart never broke their eye contact. “If we were falling hard.”

“I see,” Free whispered, wanting nothing more than to reach up and grip all that bushy length and use it to pull Hart down into his recliner. “Were you there when this was taken?”

Hart nodded, then shook his head as if he’d just had an unpleasant memory.

“So, how come you’re not in this photo?” Free stared at the picture. Hart was quiet for a long time, and Free feared he’d been too pushy.

“I didn’t have a beard at the time.” Hart actually sounded hurt. “I told you before that my ex didn’t love my facial hair as much as the other wives did their husbands’. Anyway, she always fussed about it. I ended up cutting it and leaving it that way for a long time. I’ve only been growing mine for three years now…since the divorce.”

Free hated that he’d even asked. Damn, he wanted to lay eyes on Hart’s ex just so he could give her an evil glare and then check her ass for a stick wedged up it.

Hart’s eyes darted to the couch then back. He scrubbed one hand roughly over his face looking unsure, and exhaled a long breath. “Um. Do you wanna sit down? Or…you want a drink? Are…are you hungry, maybe?” Hart moved toward the kitchen, flicking on a couple more switches and illuminating a dining room that led to the quaint eat-in kitchen.

Free grabbed Hart’s arm. He could still see the heaviness riding high on Hart’s shoulders. The tension knots were practically visible in his neck and Free knew it had to hurt like hell.

“Hey, hold on.” Free caressed the thick bicep he held in his grasp. “Just relax a minute. I don’t need you to do anything for me. I’m just trying to be here with you, yes. That’s okay?”

Hart leaned into him and Free’s chest swelled. “Yeah, that sounds okay.”

“Good.” Free ran his hand up Hart’s chest. “What’s the first thing you do when you come home from a difficult day? If I wasn’t here, what would you have done first?”