Jordan's Second Chance 1.2
“Stop! Don’t drop that!” Wynter Silvous screamed, hurrying toward the movers and grabbing the box before it hit the ground.
Wynter glared up at the careless man and vowed not to tip him. That box was filled with his grandmother’s keepsakes and she would skin him alive if he were to let anything happen to it. Their house—the house he’d grown up in—had burned down and the loss had devastated Wynter and his grandmother, Kailyn Silvous. The house was the last link he had of his parents who were killed by a drunk driver two months ago. Losing the family home on top of his parents was a devastating blow to Wynter and his grandmother.
Wynter inhaled, fighting tears. He had to be strong for his grandmother, she’d taken his parents’ deaths hard. Wynter’s father was her last surviving child. She’d buried her son and daughter within days of each other when Wynter was a small child. His aunt and uncle had gone to the bank when it’d got robbed. They’d gotten shot along with one other woman and her small child.
“Wynter? Baby, come in the house and bring these nice young men a glass of tea,” an elderly lady yelled from the front step. Long silvery hair fell in curly rivulets down a diminutive frame.
Wynter smiled at his grandmother’s voice and pushed the painful memories deep into his mind as he entered the house. “When’d you find time to make tea, Nana? There are boxes everywhere.”
Wynter gazed around the spacious foyer, but all he saw was boxes, boxes and more boxes littering the hardwood floors. He was tired from just looking at all the things that needed to be put away.
“Pooh, there’s always time for refreshments. Now go on and take these outside. They should be just about done.” Nana shoved a tray with four glasses of iced tea into Wynter’s hands.
“But Nana, there’s only two movers.”
“We have guests—most likely to welcome us to the neighborhood. Be a dear and go greet them. You might even get lucky,” Kailyn snickered.
“Nana!” Wynter knew his face was flaming. His grandma said the most outrageous things!
“What? When’s the last time you’ve had a good stiff . . .”
Wynter practically grew wings and flew out of the door before his grandmother finished her sentence. He did not want to get into a discussion about sex with his grandmother. Wynter walked down the steps, heading toward three men and a little boy standing beside the U-Haul truck.
“I’ve brought sweet tea if you men are thirsty,” Wynter announced as he stopped in front of the group.
“Thank you. I’d love some,” said a deep rumbling voice that had starred in many of Wynter’s masturbating sessions.
Wynter lost control of the tray, the world receding. He couldn’t believe it! It was the sexy man from the park! It’d been two months since the park and Wynter had given up hope of ever running into his dream man ever again.
“It’s you, my dream man,” Wynter breathed. His snow leopard—the part of him he tried so hard to suppress, yowled, scratching at his skin, wanting out.
Wynter shivered. Something dangerous lurked behind the man’s intense ice-blue gaze. “Well, well, what do we have here?”
Wynter moved toward the stranger as if in a trance, his cat urging him on. “What’s your name?” he breathed. Wynter figured he should at least get the man’s name before he jumped his bones.
Jordan’s knuckles caressed Wynter’s left cheek. “Jordan Gilvanti. And you are?”
“Yours.” Wynter laid his hands on strong shoulders and stood on tiptoe for a kiss he just knew would rock his world . . . until a little boy’s voice pierced the fog of desire.
“Lady, let me go! Who is that and what is he doing to my daddy?”