Heart on the Run (7 page)

“
Are you all right?” Their voices mingled in mutual concern.

“
Yeah.” Sprocket laughed softly, that sexy half sound, half breath that warmed Chaz from the inside out. “Sorry. I was just reaching to help with the bags.”

“
Oh…uh.”
And you thought he was leaning in for a kiss.
“I did not!” Realizing he’d spoken aloud, he stammered and blushed and finally just shoved the plastic crate at a smiling Sprocket.

“
Didn’t what?” the man drawled slowly, accepted the crate, and retreated into the foyer of the house.

Damn.
Chaz watched his finest copper cookware disappearing backward down a dim hallway, cradled in the arms of a man who was beginning to make Chaz wish for things he’d known since he was twelve he couldn’t have.

“
You said you were waiting for the doctor.” Chaz reluctantly followed his pots down the hall, the plastic grocery sack clutched tightly in clenched fists. He knew where the kitchen was from the previous visit, and it was a good thing there weren’t any traps or snares set up in the hall, because he’d have tripped every one of them. Couldn’t keep his eyes off Sprocket’s figure, still gracefully moving backward.

“
Aren’t we all?”

“
We are?” Chaz blinked furiously. “I’m not waiting for a doctor. Are you sick?”

“
Not that kind of doctor.
The Doctor.
The one and only…you know…sonic screwdriver? Flappy scarf? Fez?”

They wound up in the kitchen, where the roommate was sitting at the table on a backward turned chair, chewing on a pencil and staring at a notebook. A tablet computer lay on the table next to him, and enough school paraphernalia lay opposite to indicate that Sprocket had indeed been studying as well.

“
Isn’t a sonic screwdriver a drink?” Chaz asked numbly.

The roommate snorted, indicating he wasn’t as oblivious as he’d pretended to be.

“
No. But maybe it should be.” Sprocket set the crate on the counter and turned to face Chaz. “So…you left me a message at the store that I never got, and I’m guessing that was with one of the seasonal guys, but you’re here now and so you might as well…do your thing.”

Swallowing, forcing himself to breathe normally, Chaz nodded jerkily. “I need to test my recipes, and your stove and oven.”

“
Test my stove and oven?” Sprocket raised a confused brow.

“
Oven temperatures vary. They have cold and hot spots, and well…the only way to get to know an oven is by using it.”

“
Use my kitchen and my appliances to your heart’s content.” Sweeping a grand bow and waving broadly at the kitchen, Sprocket returned to the table.

For a few minutes all was quiet as Chaz unpacked his bags and arranged his things. Finally, the curiosity became too much. “So…is the doctor coming for dinner then?”

Sprocket and his roommate burst into guffaws and Chaz watched them nearly rolling with laughter. His lips twitched, and he thought maybe he should be embarrassed, but he didn’t feel like they were mocking him. “There’s plenty of food for four,” he ventured, wondering if either of them were going to calm down enough to share the punchline of what was surely a good joke.

“
Tell you what.” Sprocket wiped a tear from his cheek and sobered up. “After dinner, Mason will do the dishes and I’ll introduce you to the Doctor.”

***

“
Damn, that bloke can cook. Can we keep him?” Mason hip-bumped Sprocket out of the way and stuck his hands in the sink full of dishes waiting to be loaded into the dishwasher.

Sprocket laughed and bumped him back before leaning against the adjacent counter, crossing his arms. “Lay off the BBC…and sure, at least until the party wraps up. After that, he’s gonna hightail it outta here with the quickness.”

“
You think so?” Mason finished filling the dishwasher and grabbed a soap pod from underneath.

Sprocket nodded. “I’m fairly certain of few things in this world… I look delectable in tighty whities, you use too much toothpaste, and Chaz is a runner.”

A door opened down the hall; their guest was done in the restroom and shuffling—very slowly by the sound of it—back to the kitchen.

Mason turned around and propped his hip on the opposite counter, mirroring Sprocket’s position. He grabbed the towel hanging from the junk drawer and wiped his hands dry.

“
Um…wow, you guys cleaned up quick.” He looked over his shoulder down the hall then back at them, a sexy red hue enveloping his cheeks. “I swear I wasn’t in there
that
long.”

Snorting, Mason gestured to where they’d eaten. “You helped clean off the table. Anyway, Sprocks and me always tag team the dishes, and the machine”—he tapped his bare heel on the dishwasher behind him—“does the rest.”

“
You two…well, that makes sense, with you living together. Two people can do in five minutes what one can do in ten, right?”

Sprocket remained quiet while the two enjoyed their chit chat, trying to gauge Chaz’s reaction in such a personal situation with him and Mason.

Mason nodded at Chaz’s statement. “Yep, we’ve got it down to a science, when we don’t grab takeout that is. Cuz then it’s all paper plates.”

“
Oh.” Chaz’s voice lowered, the single syllable word barely passing through his lips.

Sprocket straightened his shoulders, standing a little taller, wondering what that confusing man was thinking to make his smile fade and eyes suddenly study an evidently interesting spot on the floor.

“
Hey! That gives me a great idea.” Mason’s booming voice filled the room, causing Sprocket to flinch a little with surprise.

From Chaz’s wide eyes and rigid stance, he was shaken by Mason’s announcement also. Of course, Sprocket’s roommate would only smile if he knew how unsettling he was to their guest; the man had a wicked sense of humor—not always a good thing.

“
And what is this great idea you have, Mason?” Sprocket prompted him.

“
We normally takeout on Wednesdays,” he stated as he turned to Chaz. “We both have class in the morning and Mr. Assistant Manager over here works the swing shift and isn’t off until sixish, so it’s just a routine we got into. But—and I’m going out on a limb here—you need more than just one test run with our finicky appliances. What if”—he held up both pointer fingers for emphasis—“what if we turn Wednesday into Chazday instead? Huh? Huh…” Mason smiled, getting more animated with his arm movements as he went on. “Seriously, we’d”—he swung those fingers between them—“love to be your guinea pigs, and you’d get to figure out all the hot spots…”

Sprocket loudly cleared his throat.

“
In the oven,” Mason finished his sentence with a wink. “Need some water there, Sprocks?”

Before he could counter with the need for a new, less intrusive roommate, Chaz rang in on his thoughts about this offer. “Well, I could use the practice with your oven and cooktop. The chicken almondine was a bit dry tonight.”

Sprocket wrinkled his brow. “It was?” He looked at Mason who shrugged. Neither of them could find fault with the meal they’d been served.

“
Yeah, and the sauce didn’t thicken as quickly as it should’ve. I wonder if the back burner isn’t up to par.”

“
Now…hey…” Sprocket stumbled over his words, praying to god that Chaz didn’t look up and see Mason stifling his giggles.

But he did look up. At Sprocket, not Mason. “And your feedback on if…well, if you like my cooking…that would be nice.”

Just like that Sprocket’s heart melted. The timidness in Chaz’s gorgeous ocean blue eyes shone, the skin around them crinkling to emphasize the emotion. His bottom lip tortured between his slightly crooked white teeth, and he wrung his hands together in constant motion. Everything in Sprocket screamed to grab this man and drag him through the house to the bedroom. Tear off his clothes and show him with actions, not words, how much he thought everything about Chaz was nice. More than nice.

The tension in the air ratcheted up a notch as they stood there gazing into each other’s eyes. It could be so damn good between them if Chaz allowed it, but Sprocket wasn’t prepared to lose what little friendship they had rebuilt by ruining it all and cavemanning Chaz back to his room for hours upon hours of seriously sweaty and tension-releasing fucking. A couple of orgasms wasn’t worth the chance to be able to run into Chaz at the coffee shop, or bookstore, or grocery market and not see him running in the other direction in avoidance. Sprocket might not’ve admitted it to anyone—not even Mason—but that shit hurt. To know that Chaz hightailed it down the instant potato flakes and processed food aisle just to ignore him…yeah, Sprocket wore many a frown because of that.

A voice inside him boldly declared it would be so much more than a couple of orgasms, but Sprocket ignored it. He could get sexual gratification elsewhere, but Chaz’s friendship was only available from one man, and that man was now returning his smile.

“
Good!” Mason’s voice quickly became obnoxious sounding as he interrupted Sprocket’s thoughts yet again. “Good to have that settled. Now,” he continued, clapping his hands once before rubbing them together conspiratorially. Sprocket knew that gleam in his dark brown eyes. Mason was up to something. “I know we had a whole night planned of Doctor Who greatness, and really, Chaz, we’re doing this for you as much as ourselves. The shame…” he mumbled those last two words, but his smile belied the sentiment of them. “But I really have to finish my paper, class is tomorrow, and I haven’t double checked all my sources. So, seeing how it’s still early”—he looked at his bare wrist—“I think I’m gonna pay the library a visit and finalize this bad boy. Sprocks, we just purchased season three from Amazon Prime so I suggest you de-virginize our luscious chef here with the weeping angels episode…what’s it called…um, freak…‘Blink,’ that’s it!” He nodded his head at Chaz, “It’s the best episode, truly. You’ll love it.”

Sprocket bit the side of his mouth to stop the smirk that threatened to take over his facial muscles. “The library, huh? I thought you did all the tedious stuff for that paper already.” He raised his eyebrow knowingly.

And damn if his best friend didn’t even try to play along with his ruse when he turned to Sprocket, his back now to Chaz so their guest couldn’t see Mason’s tongue lolling out of his mouth in a silly grin. The playfulness shining in his eyes mischievous enough to make the Cheshire cat jealous. “Yeah, well, like you mentioned, I’ve had my fill of BBC tonight. Anyway, you can’t be too careful; this assignment is thirty-five percent of my grade.”

Gathering his papers from the counter where they’d been moved to clear off the table for dinner, he determinedly looked at Sprocket. “Play nice.” He then turned toward Chaz and mock bowed. “Until next Wednesday.” Then he leaned in and stage whispered to Chaz, “You should see the new sneakers I’m getting Sprocks…they’re great for running.” And with that parting line, he was out of the kitchen.

Seconds later, the shuffling of shoes on tile marked Mason slipping into a pair—probably Sprocket’s loafers again—then the front door opened and closed, telling them better than a huge billboard sign that they were alone in the house now.

Standing there staring at each other, Chaz finally broke the actually not awkward silence. “I didn’t know you ran.”

Chapter Six

“
Yeah,” he whispered, gazing up into the other man’s brown eyes, noting the thick ring of gold around the iris. “Squeeze my balls.” The request ended on a throaty moan as Sprocket obliged, the dimples in his cheeks flashing as he smiled that wicked sexy smile that set Chaz’s pulse racing and made his heart quiver in fear.

“
Like that?” Sprocket whispered, leaning in close to slick his tongue over Chaz’s parted lips again. His breath was hot and minty and enticing, and Chaz reached for the kiss, falling back disappointed as Sprocket leaned away.