Heart on the Run (5 page)

Sprocket had spent months trying to understand why, when he finally conceded it wasn’t the physical act that pulled him in, it was the emotional connection that transpired. And even though it looked like Chaz wanted to deny it, Sprocket knew that stubborn man felt it also. The memory of Chaz’s eyes widening, his fingers digging into Sprockets ass urging him to move faster, harder…the soft sigh when he whispered the word yes over and over against Sprocket’s moist skin.

And it was more than them just being friends then having sex. Hell, Sprocket had been friends with Mason for ten years before they’d lost their virginity to each other. And even though their orgasms together were hot and heavy when they happened, it never was anything more—or less—than that. They loved each other, but weren’t in love with each other.

“
That man is…running laps in your mind right now.” Mason completed Sprocket’s sentence.

“
Nonsense. I was just wondering how I could plan a party without actually having to cook anything.”

“
Lame, Sprocks.” Mason called his lie. “But hey, you convince yourself of whatever you want. Just know you aren’t fooling me.”

Sprocket sighed. He hadn’t thought about Chaz this much since the weeks after their night together. It was that cursed pumpkin latte. Damn the sensory organs for bringing back memories best left forgotten.

But if he did do this party with Chaz…maybe…

“
Grandma would approve a Christmas soiree at the house,” he thought out loud.

“
She’d fucking love it.” Mason laughed. He surprisingly found an empty parking spot not far from Craft Time and pulled in.

“
Okay, learn lots of good things in the library. I’ll see you tonight?” Sprocket opened the passenger door to exit.

“
Yep, I’m thinking pizza.”

“
No pineapple this time.”

Mason honked once then reversed out of the spot and was gone. What wasn’t gone, though, were thoughts of a certain cook that he suddenly felt very optimistic about seeing more of in the coming weeks.

Chapter Four

Binge watching DVR’d episodes of Top Chef had won the “what to do with a long weekend” toss up, mostly because if Sprocket really did “figure it out,” then Chaz hadn’t wanted to be off exploring wine country on his own. He might as well have gone ahead and taken up his old friend’s invitation to “drop in” at his Martha’s Vineyard winery anytime though, because the rest of Saturday, all of Sunday and a painstakingly slow Monday had all passed without further contact from Sprocket.

“
And you were worried about something developing between the two of you,” he mocked his reflection in the rearview mirror. The man there snarled back at him, thin upper lip lifted disdainfully, auburn brows lowered.

Sweetie, don’t scowl. Your face will freeze like that, and then you’ll never find a husband.

After turning off the engine, Chaz deliberately forced himself to relax and put on a smile. It didn’t feel real, but he just had to get to the restaurant and all the negatives could be forgotten.

Fake it until it’s real.

“
Right, Mom.” He exited the car and started the long walk to
Alimentaire
. The distance wasn’t all that great, a block and a half. “Find the positives. Pumpkin spice at Prudence’s on the way…”

A car door slammed. Tires squealed. Exhaust fumes rose.

“
Did you say coffee at Prudence’s? I’m in.”

His head jerked up, tilted sideways so he was actually looking up at Sprocket from under his lashes. “I…” He couldn’t help the lightening of his spirits.
It’s just because seeing him reminded you of the great opportunity ahead. That’s all.
“It’s pumpkin spice and half price Tuesday. My treat.”

Sprocket stopped walking and Chaz immediately followed suit.

“
What?” he finally asked when meeting the brown gaze became uncomfortable.

“
We’re pretending that you care about the extra buck fifty you save on Tuesday? As you said the other night, I saw where you live.”

Sighing, Chaz started walking again. “I’m not pretending. My ma pays for the apartment. Please don’t spread that around.”

Sprocket shrugged. “I live in my late grandmother’s house. Why would anyone care? Besides, it’s not like I go around talking about you.”

“
Oh…so…about the house. Can I see the kitchen? Can we use it for the party?”

“
I guess we can do that.”

In unison, they turned to walk between the wrought iron tables Prudence had on the sidewalk in front of her building. Simultaneously they reached for the door handle. After a brief struggle, Chaz let go of the door and allowed Sprocket to hold it open and usher him through. His cheeks were burning, and he knew they had to be flaming red. The curse of the fair complexion and red hair. “Thank you,” he muttered, feeling horribly embarrassed as though every eye in the tiny coffee shop were focused on them. “That’s very gentlemanly of you.”

“
Chaz! And Sprocket!” A cheerful voice called out from behind the counter. It was Prudence herself, a thin, angular woman of indeterminate age. The coffee shop proprietress wore a ruffled apron and a perky beret in matching, shocking glow-in-the-dark pink. “How are two of my favorite people today?”

Despite the fact that he’d personally heard her greet dozens of other people, including Dermot and Xander, the exact same way, Chaz felt open sincerity in the greeting.

“
My grandma had a thing about good manners…” Sprocket let the door go and they approached the counter. “Hi, Prudence. Two pumpkin spice coffees please, and give him the bill. He insists it’s the least he can do.”

“
Ah…” Giving up on clever repartee, it had never been his strong suit anyway, Chaz just agreed. “Quit, Sprocket. Yes, Prudence. Make the coffees large and put an extra dose of sweet in his.”

“
Full of vim and vinegar today, is he?” Prudence’s blue eyes twinkled speculatively as they darted between the two of them. “Looks like you could use a little sweet in your day too, Chaz. How about a shot of maple?”

Oh my god… Was she looking at the two of them like she thought maybe they’d…oh my god… Were people going to think… He must have looked as flustered as he felt, because Sprocket stepped in with smooth aplomb.

“
Maple is great. What do you think of this cold weather?”

The two of them chatted amicably about the unseasonably cool temperatures while Prudence efficiently prepared the beverages. Chaz concentrated on breathing and calming down and rationalizing himself out of the momentary panic over Prudence thinking he and Sprocket were a couple. Because they weren’t.

“
You two have a great day.”

His gaze refocused and he realized Prudence was smiling indulgently at him, and Sprocket was holding out one of two large cups, a soft look on his face that was probably caused by the steam rising from the coffee.

Awkwardly, Chaz accepted the cup and nodded at Prudence. “Thank you.” Realizing he hadn’t paid, he pulled his wallet out of his pocket and nearly succeeded in spilling the coffee as he retrieved a bill and handed it over. “Keep the change,” he choked out.

Once more, Sprocket gestured for Chaz to precede him down the aisle, and this time Chaz was too rattled to protest.

Outside again, they ambled slowly down the walkway, occasionally separating to allow determined shoppers to pass between them, but always coming back together, bumping arms at times.

“
Thanks for the coffee,” Sprocket finally said.

“
No problem.” Chaz sipped his, letting the soothing flavor and heat warm him. “So—”

“
I need to ask you a favor.”

Do me a favor.
Such innocent words…but oh, what a vast scope favor encompassed…

He bit his lip. “Uh, okay.”

“
I need a ride home.”

Chaz considered refusing. Being shut up in his car, with Sprocket radiating heat and energy next to him? That was about as close as he could come to defining torture without a dictionary.

“
I figure you can take a look at the kitchen after you drop me off.”

Oh…yeah. The kitchen. He really did need to see it… “Sure. I’m on until ten tonight though.”

“
I’m closing so that works perfect. Just knock on the door when you get off and I’ll be ready.”

“
Ohhhkayy.” He was still clearing his mind of the filthy thoughts that comment engendered when Sprocket peeled off with a jaunty wave and darted through the main entrance of Craft Time.

***

“
Go home, you’re annoying me.” Sprocket shooed Lydia away from the shelf she was dusting and toward the front door. He grabbed her purse from under the register as they passed the counter and kept waving her forward.

“
But I told Shawna I’d make sure everything was cleaned,” she protested, even though she kept walking.

Sprocket turned his head and raised his voice, “Shawna, Lydia won’t leave.”

“
Lydia, go home,” Shawna shouted from the open office door.

“
She’s feisty. If you stay, you’re putting your life in peril.” Sprocket nodded solemnly.

Lydia smiled as she held her hand out for her purse. “Fine, but I’ll remember this.”

He turned toward her and bowed elegantly, holding her purse out in regal fashion. “I’m sure you will. Give Tobias a fist bump from me.” Sprocket absolutely adored Lydia’s nine-year-old son.

She rolled her eyes. “You know you’re the only one he lets call him that. He’s been begging me to get you and Mason to take him to that pottery class again. I keep reminding him that’s a long drive, not something you do on the spur of the moment.”

“
I’ll tell you what. They get report cards soon, yes?”

Lydia nodded. “Right before Thanksgiving break. I feel sorry for the ones with bad grades. That’s got to ruin the holidays.”

“
Yeah, no kidding. Okay, if you’re happy with his grades, I’ll set up a trip the first weekend of December. That way”—Sprocket lowered his voice conspiratorially like—“he can make some special people homemade Christmas gifts. Think he’ll go for that?”

“
Oh boy, you’re aiming for favorite person award, aren’t you?” She laughed. “Mason will be okay with this?”

“
That PITA is out gallivanting around in my car as we speak. He has no say in this,” Sprocket declared boldly.

“
Yes, well, if him gallivanting in your car is the reason certain hotties are standing at our front door talking to themselves, I’d say you two might be even on this one.” Lydia raised an eyebrow at him before nodding in the direction of the front door they stood just feet in front of.

“
What?” Sprocket spun around, and sure enough, a very serious hottie stood outside not quite facing the store but not completely facing away either. The sous chef wrung his hands together and moved his lips a mile a minute.

Chaz reached for the door then quickly yanked his hand back as if the air itself scalded him. He turned and walked a couple feet away before stopping.

“
Shouldn’t we—”

Sprocket shushed her quickly, moving them both to the left so they no longer stood so obviously in view. “He’s not done. He’ll go through this at least one, probably two more times before he settles on the idea of knocking.”

“
You’re kidding.” But Lydia stayed put, watching with Sprocket as Chaz returned to the door and stood there in silence before retreating a step.