Heart on the Run (11 page)

Yeah.

Then the gazebo had become a refuge, an escape from constant reminders of what he couldn’t have, what he’d held in the palm of his hand, however briefly, and been forced to let go. By his own conscience.

All he had to do, even now, was think of his mother standing over that ivory lined coffin, sobbing hysterically, and he knew it was the right thing.

But then…

His mother wasn’t alone, not now.

And maybe that was what he should really pay attention to.

In the past year, he’d evaded Sprocket’s overtures of friendship because he was afraid the man would be hurt… But then there’d been Derek the guitar player, and Jacob the Shakespearean actor, and a man who showed up in a three piece suit a few times. And Sprocket had smiled and chatted and flirted, and when each man stopped coming around, he’d kept on, that sunny smile in place, brightening everyone’s day.

And Chaz thought he had it figured out now.

Sprocket wasn’t going to fall in love with him…he just liked sex. And if Chaz fell in love with Sprocket, well…that was okay, wasn’t it? Because he wasn’t the one likely to be left behind.

And if Chaz could have a little more…well, then, it didn’t really matter that the longest he’d seen any of those men hang around was a few weeks. A few weeks of having Sprocket as his…that would be worth a little pain later, wouldn’t it? He’d survived a whole year of wanting so badly that he shook with it sometimes. He got over it. He’d get over it again. He could do temporary.

He could have Sprocket.

Just like Mom had her gentlemen friends.

If you love something, let it go. If it comes back…

Sprocket came back. So that meant Chaz got to keep him, right?

For a limited time. Like Prudence’s seasonal blends.

“
Yeah, that sounds good. We’ve got a blanket at Craft Time, and we can get some hot chocolate from Prudence. How about I grab those things and meet you over there at ten-thirty?”

A window above them opened noisily. They both glanced up.

“
Ho, there,” Sprocket shouted, waving.

“
Please, sir. Can you tell me what day it is?” Xander wore a scarlet Santa hat and leaned far out the window.

“
Why it’s Friday, Mr. Scrooge, sir,” Sprocket called back, bowing and scraping dramatically, sweeping off his hat.

“
So it is. Your day to let in the delivery men and not stand about chatting. Best get inside before your goose is cooked!” The window slammed shut.

Laughing, Sprocket straightened. “Well, I guess that tells me. I’ll see you later, okay?”

Chaz nodded then scurried off to
Alimentaire
as Sprocket unlocked the door of Craft Time.

***

Sprocket grabbed Xander’s wrist and looked at his watch. Five after ten.

“
Do you mind?” His boss jerked his arm back. “That’s the third time you commandeered my watch. Get your own.”

“
Okay, I’ll put that on my Christmas list.” Sprocket took the last of the DIY nutcracker kits out of the box in front of him, shelving them. “Xander will you buy me a watch for Christmas?” He batted his lashes while he broke down the box and added it to their pile.

“
Why are you so interested in the time, anyway?” Xander emptied his box, also.

Instead of Sprocket getting another one to empty, he grabbed Xander’s and proceeded to break down that one.

“
Hey, that’s not right,” Xander mumbled as he grabbed the last of the delivery and used his blade to cut it open.

“
I’ve got a date. There is a fine-ass cook at
Alimentaire
that I plan to get naked with in the gazebo.” He threw the now flattened box on the pile just in time to again pilfer his boss’s. Of course, since this was the last one, Xander didn’t complain this time.

“
Keep your paws off Dermot,” Xander stated. His voice rang hard and fierce, but when Sprocket jerked his head back in shock, he registered Xander’s smile.

“
That’s sick, man. The idea of me and that…that…”

“
Watch it, Sprocket. That…that…happens to be my man you’re talking about.” Xander nudged him as he walked by, straightening the storage room shelf they’d just filled.

Sprocket shook his head. “I still don’t get you and him. I mean, you’re so”—he made a maniacally happy face while waving his hands high above his head—”and he’s just so…” His hands dropped below his waist and the smile turned into a tongue hanging out the side of his mouth death look. “Seriously, what do you see in him?”

The corner of Xander’s mouth tilted up, his eyes clouded over, and a whoosh of breath left his lungs. In that split second moment every bit of tension Xander carried around with him left his body with that deep breath. His posture was pure liquid, the smirk that started finished as a full-face smile, and then the answer hit Sprocket.

It was love.

And that damn emotion affected everyone differently. It was powerful enough to make a happy-go-lucky relatively smart man fall in love with the bully of the block.

“
Yeah, forget I asked that question. You’re forecasting the answer.” Sprocket grabbed Xander’s wrist again—quarter after ten. “I gotta run. Those damn cooks are sticklers for punctuality.”

Xander slapped Sprocket’s hand away. “Will you stop doing that?”

“
I’m leaving now, so sure.” Sprocket shrugged while grinning. “I’m taking ol’ purple. Oh and don’t wait up for me, I might be out late.”

He laughed when he heard Xander muttering about his standing boxed lunch date at eleven. But Sprocket didn’t worry about it. Lydia manned the counter and Shawna had the floor; they’d be just fine. Technically Sprocket had only come in for the truck today, and Xander taught a CD-ROM card designing class in the morning, hence the reason he’d hollered out of the second floor window earlier. So neither of their scheduled hours were specifically for customer service, though they always stuck around to help cover lunch breaks. Everyone would just have to wait this time until after his—dare he say it—date.

Stopping by the office, he held his breath when he opened the door, hoping that Shawna really was on the floor. The room was empty, so he relaxed as he crossed the room to grab the dark blanket. Ol’ purple was a special order huge swatch of thick flannel fabric in an ombré design of purples. Unfortunately the customer ended up cancelling the order after they sized the fabric, so Shawna had used it as a demo in one of her sewing classes and made a very cozy blanket out of it that they kept in the store for whatever.

Today the whatever happened to be a nice picnic lunch.

He grabbed the grande hot chocolates—with a dash of his favorite flavoring, pecan—and reached the gazebo with five minutes to spare, per the clock tower.

Sprocket sat the drinks on the bench of the gazebo so he could spread the blanket across the floor.

“
Wow, that’s a huge blanket,” Chaz stated as he took the three steps up to stand at the edge of it.

“
Never took you for a size queen.” Sprocket winked as he handed him a cup of steaming goodness. “So, what’s for lunch?”

“
Oh, well…” Chaz held the basket close to his chest as he slipped off his shoes and situated himself in the middle of the blanket. “Not much.” He pulled a thermos from the basket. “I made homemade tomato soup and chicken salad sandwiches.” He set the thermos down and pulled out wrapped sandwiches, a bag of croutons, a plastic bowl with a translucent red lid, and a small stack of china dishes in rapid succession.

“
My grandma used to make me tomato soup and grilled cheese all the time. Except she’d actually grill the cheese before putting it on the sourdough toast. I tried it once…it did not end well.” He laughed as he shook his head, settling down next to Chaz on the blanket.

“
But I’ve heard you and Mason talk; you cook most of the time between the two of you.”

Sprocket accepted the sandwich handed to him and nodded. “Yep. Well you know, we both can cook, but neither of us gets much fun out of it.” He unwrapped the sandwich, picked up half, and bit into it. He couldn’t suppress his moan. Damn that was good, and Chaz put nuts in it for crunch, walnuts and pecans. How did he know pecans were Sprocket’s favorite? A part of him wanted to believe maybe Chaz had asked around. Anyone in Craft Time would know and Prudence did too.

Not that it mattered either way. Nothing strange about a friend—and only a friend—knowing something as mundane as that. He quickly chewed and swallowed. “And we definitely don’t do fancy. Unless you count roast, but even then I sprinkle the seasoning on it and throw it in the oven. No fuss, no muss.”

With his next bite, something popped in his mouth, making him want to gag. He held it back, and while Chaz gazed out over the park at the kids running in the playground Sprocket lifted the toast to see what he’d bit into. Grapes. He grimaced as he quickly plucked the halved grapes out of the salad and dropped them on the napkin by his leg.

“
You don’t like grapes?”

Sprocket jumped. Fuck…busted. “I like them fine. I like them right off the vine, frozen, even mashed up as wine…don’t like them so much with seeds, though.”

“
Or in a sandwich, apparently.” Chaz noted, gesturing to the evidence on the blanket between them.

“
Well…” Sprocket jammed the rest of the sandwich in his mouth and chewed slowly, biding himself some time. While he was trying to break down the enormous amount of food in his mouth, he grabbed the other half of the sandwich and proceeded to pick the grapes out of that also.

Chaz raised an eyebrow at him, and he shrugged. He’d already been caught, no use faking it now.

Reaching over, Chaz snatched Sprocket’s wrist and guided it to his mouth. Sprocket gulped down the food in his mouth, his stomach somersaulting either from the partially chewed lump it just received or because of the man sitting across from him on the blanket.

This wasn’t what friends did. Friends didn’t use their friend’s fingers as utensils. Still, he probably could’ve gotten past this moment if there hadn’t been a smidge of mayonnaise on the tip of his nail. Chaz spotted it, and while staring Sprocket in the eye, he put that spot right in front of his mouth. They sat like that for an eternity. Sprocket could feel his heart pounding fast, wondered if his pulse alerted Chaz to his extreme interest in the man’s next move.

He wanted to shout at Chaz to lick him. Do it now. Put him out of his misery. There was nothing Sprocket wanted more than to experience the wetness of Chaz’s tongue as it cleaned the white stuff from his finger. That was a lie. Sprocket wanted them to make more white stuff that had to be cleaned off, the kind you couldn’t purchase in a store. Well, maybe you could purchase it…but he really didn’t want his brain to go off on that tangent.

Finally—
finally
!—Chaz licked the condiment off. Before he could move back and call an end to this little episode, Sprocket broke free of his grip and hooked his hand behind the other man’s neck, holding him there, unable to move away.

When their lips met, it wasn’t gentle and coaxing. Sprocket wasn’t in that kind of mood. He wanted bad and he wanted now. Fuck friends. That whole concept was overrated if it kept him up all night in need. Anyway, this wasn’t his fault. Chaz started this shit; Sprocket would finish it.

And this time, he’d be better prepared. When Chaz kicked him the fuck out of his life, it wouldn’t tear him apart. Because no matter what, he’d make sure there wasn’t a spot in his heart for Chaz. Sprocket willingly would give up half his bed for the man, but nothing more.

While diving his tongue in Chaz’s mouth—reaching far enough back he could say with great certainty Chaz no longer had tonsils—Sprocket damn near convinced himself that he could do that, too.

Then Chaz whimpered, his hand pressing against Sprocket’s chest, right over his heart, and Sprocket knew he was a goner.