Heart on the Run (21 page)

Chaz glanced over it swiftly. “It’s fine.”

“
Great. They’re going to love this. Come on out and mingle, Chaz.”

“
I will,” he promised. “I just have to get this last tray ready and then I’ll be there.” Unless he could think of something else to keep him from the main room of the house, where Sprocket was holding court, laughing and joking and entertaining all their coworkers as though nothing out of the fucking ordinary had happened.

“
He’ll kill me if he finds out I came in here.”

Chaz’s head whipped up and his eyes widened as Mason stepped into the room. The other man was slightly tipsy, if the sheepish smile on his face was anything to judge by, and up to something if the furtive glance over his shoulder was any indication. “Who?” Chaz pretended ignorance.

“
Santa Claus.” Mason snorted. “Who do you think?”

Sighing, Chaz finished his turkey platter and picked it up. “Excuse me, please.” He walked to where Mason blocked the door and waited.

“
No.”

“
What?” The door was behind Mason. Mason filled the empty space, and his smile was gone. So was the looseness that had given Chaz the idea that Mason was tipsy. Mason was stone cold sober and pissed off.

“
I’m not excusing you. I excused you last time. Not this time. I offered to apologize, you know. And he said it didn’t matter. So I’m not going to bother with the apology. But I will tell you this”—he leaned forward, blue eyes narrowed, lip twisted in a menacing sneer—“after tonight, I don’t want to see your face around here again.”

Chaz choked down an angry retort. Getting riled wasn’t going to help anyone or anything. “Fine. I just need to serve this food, chat with my boss, and I can promise you… That’s the last time I’ll cross the threshold of your domestic bliss.” He almost felt like he was the one who should apologize, like he’d intruded on a long-standing relationship. The fact was, whatever relationship existed between Mason and Sprocket, they obviously weren’t exclusive, and that was the mistake Chaz had made. Thinking that he and Sprocket had something special, something exclusive.

“
Yeah, well. Avoid the connecting door to the dining room on your way.” He jerked his head toward the front of the house. “Hate to see anyone standing under the mistletoe with no one to kiss.”

Chaz couldn’t help it. He flinched. The tray in his hands shook. “Fine.” He bit out. The door behind Mason opened, bumping the man in the buttocks.

Sprocket’s head poked around the door. “Oh, there you are.”

Chaz’s heart rate accelerated and his senses leapt. He drank in the man’s appearance from the shiny black leather boots, tight faded denim jeans, the ugliest Christmas sweater ever made in shades of olive and crimson, to his smiling face and dopey brown felt reindeer antlers. “Hi,” Chaz muttered, flushing furiously.

He realized after the word was out that the greeting had been meant for Mason, not himself.

“
Verity something or other from your E-Com class is here looking totally confused and kind of sexy.” Sprocket told Mason, who immediately turned and darted out of the room.

“
Hi.” Sprocket finally acknowledged Chaz’s greeting in a dispassionate voice.

“
Excuse me.” Chaz tried again, lifting his tray. “I just need…”

“
Yeah. Good food, by the way.”

“
Thanks.” And what else could he say? Certainly not what he wanted to say…that he didn’t care if Sprocket had a harem of other men, he just wanted to be a part of his life, a place in his bed. “I hope Dermot likes it.”

Sprocket held the kitchen door and let Chaz pass by him. “What’s not to like? You’re a great cook, and everything Macy has brought out has been amazing. People are orgasming over your food. You succeeded.”

Oh my god.
The word orgasm had him hardening instantly, shuddering. “Th-thanks.” All the way down the hall to the dining room he was conscious of Sprocket behind him. Every footfall shook his resolve. Every breath… Was Sprocket watching his ass? Did he feel one-tenth of the physical magnetism…the emotional pain that Chaz was going through?

Heart hammering, Chaz pushed through the door into a room full of maybe a dozen people from
Alimentaire
and Craft Time, all laughing and joking and having fun. He came to a complete stop, taking them all in. The food, as Sprocket had said, had gone over well. The trays looked like they’d been ransacked by starving Vikings, and barely a morsel was left.

Dermot and Xander stood together, feeding one another tidbits off a plate. They were both smiling, and Chaz let some of the tension he’d been holding go.

Until Sprocket brushed against him, pushing past him into the room, a full body caress that was over as soon as it started.

***

Sprocket was sure everyone saw through his facade. He’d never excelled in drama class. Quite bluntly, his acting skills sucked and he needed them if he was going to survive this damn party. Though Chaz didn’t look like he had any trouble. The food kept him busy, and when he wasn’t preoccupied bringing in more than anyone could possibly eat, he was smiling and small talking everyone in the house…except Sprocket.

Hell, Sprocket caught him in the kitchen chitchatting with Mason of all people. Yet, he couldn’t even bother to say hi to Sprocket unless prompted.

Sprocket was such a fucking idiot. Did he really think he was so great that Chaz would change from his selfishness of last year?

Fuck, this wasn’t like Sprocket; he didn’t worry about how others thought of him. He wasn’t a conceited narcissist by any means. He didn’t look at himself in the mirror and get an uncontrollable desire to touch himself. But he wasn’t a self-conscious type of person either. He enjoyed the very popular clichéd motto of live and let live.

He felt someone’s eyes on him and glanced to his left. Macy shoved an oval piece of some sort of toast in her mouth and chewed slowly, not attempting to hide her examination of him. He held up his own bite-sized morsel of goodness in a mock salute from across the room. He wasn’t sure what Chaz called the appetizer, but he knew the sous chef had fixed them specially for him. He’d expressed his love of his grandma’s Christmas Day prime rib, how she’d always made it and he hadn’t had one since her death. Not out of sorrow or remembrance, but simply because there had never been a call to cook a whole standing rib roast anymore. Well, maybe also because he had no idea how to cook one without completely ruining the beautiful piece of meat.

The next Wednesday, Chaz mentioned a surprise hors d’oeuvre he put on the menu especially for Sprocket. He never said exactly what it was. Hell, Sprocket had thought he wouldn’t make them now that…

But as soon as Sprocket bit into the tiny piece of puff pastry with the perfectly spiced meat inside along with a dash of nose-clearing horseradish he knew why Chaz made this particular item.

And he might’ve eaten over a dozen of them himself. They were amazing, and they made him feel…something.

But right now, with Macy’s eagle eye on him, Sprocket suddenly felt like a very small, very wrong man. How many at
Alimentaire
thought he was some sort of sicko, perverted dipshit?

Sprocket stood straighter, tossing the second bite of his pastry roast appetizer in the garbage. How dare he allow Chaz to label him like that, and worse, how dare he listen to the damn label and belittle his own beliefs about himself.

This had to stop. Chaz and him were two different people with two different sets of beliefs and values. There was nothing sexual about Mason walking naked into his bedroom the other day. True, it may’ve been really shitty timing and in poor judgment on Mason’s part, but he didn’t realize Chaz was over. Why would he? Chaz and Sprocket only spent a couple nights together, and each time was at Chaz’s home, never Sprocket’s.

Because Chaz never seemed interested in spending a night at Sprocket’s house.

Damn, he was such an idiot. The writing wasn’t just on the wall—it was spray painted all over the motherfucking wall.

“
So, what’d you do to him?”

Sprocket jerked, glancing to his right to see Macy staring up at him.

“
Um…excuse me?” Of course Chaz would tell everyone it was him.

“
Let’s not play games here, Sprocket. You know what I mean.” Did the little girl just growl at him?

Sprocket blinked, looking around the room for a second, but everyone was busy smiling and enjoying themselves, even Chaz laughed at something Diego, a new part-time employee of Dermot’s, said.

“
Macy, when are you gonna make an honest man out of me?” Mason sidled up from behind, squeezing between them with his arm draped over the shorter woman’s shoulders.

She blushed and blinked and did all those other things a smitten female did when Mason laid on the charm. “Like anyone could make an honest man out of you,” she giggled.

Really? What girl went from threatening to giggling in a three second turnaround time?

“
Ahh…but you wanna try, dontcha?” She smiled at Mason, enjoying their banter until… “Do you mind if I steal him”—Mason placed a hand on Sprocket’s arm—”away for a few moments?” And her smile died immediately.

“
Sure.” Her voice was clipped.

Sprocket allowed Mason to lead him to the less crowded adjoining room.

“
You okay? Macy looked brutal with you out there,” Mason asked.

Sprocket stepped closer so they could talk without being overheard since Percy from
Alimentaire
just walked into the dining room on his way to the drink buffet. “Yeah. Hey, how do you know Macy?”

Mason gave him a droll look. “Small town…”

“
Not that small.”

“
She’s in the library with her kids a lot. I actually think she has a boyfriend. She’s one of the safe people to flirt with. She never takes me too damn seriously.”

Sprocket nodded, understanding exactly what his best friend meant. The guy liked to flirt, not always—never crudely—but enough. Unfortunately, sometimes the receiver of Mason’s attentions took him too seriously and that always ended in a difficult conversation. Deep down Mase didn’t like upsetting people. “How’d your surprise visit go?”

“
Not like
that
for sure.” He stressed that as he smirked. Stealing a cinnamon-coated pumpkin seed cluster off Sprocket’s plate, he popped it in his mouth and spoke around it while chewing. “Sexy and completely off the market, he loves his girlfriend very much. He just needed his notes back and enjoyed raiding the food table while he waited. Have you tried those meat and pastry bite things? Fuck, they’re good.” He swallowed before continuing. “But enough about every single person on this planet who isn’t named Sprocket. How’re you holding up?”

Sprocket was tempted to ask about Mason and Chaz’s little powwow in the kitchen, but he figured if anything important had been spoken, Mason would let him know. Otherwise, he didn’t plan to hang on every word Chaz said to everyone else. He wasn’t going to turn into that guy.

“
I’m fine.”

“
Grandma always told us that when a woman said she was fine…”

Sprocket snorted. “I think she always knew that didn’t apply to us.” He nodded to the doorway. “I’m gonna get back in there. Perhaps there’s some way to wind this party down faster and get everyone the hell outta here.”

“
Yeah, either that or see if cheffie boy put out the desserts yet.”

Letting his head fall back, Sprocket groaned. “Don’t call him that.”

“
That’s the nicest thing I’ve come up with to call him.” Mason grabbed his elbow, stopping him while pointing out an elaborate decoration Sprocket hadn’t seen.