One of them said something in an ugly tone of voice that Danny’s panic made it difficult for him to make sense of. In fact, he couldn’t seem to hear anything over the frantic hammering of his own heart—which was probably also why he hadn’t heard Hot Gardener coming. He was just suddenly… there, rounding the corner of the trail behind Onion Breath and appearing like something out of a dream. Not necessarily the hot, all-consuming ones Danny had been entertaining about him, though, because here, in real life, the man Danny had been fantasizing about all week had the same furious scowl on his face that he’d worn when he'd caught Danny looking at him in the rose garden. And sure, yes, it was true that Danny had been secretly hoping to catch sight of the gorgeous gardener all week, but now, the angry look on the guy’s face combined with the fear Danny was already fighting made him want to vomit.
Hot Gardener didn’t even slow down, and when his hand shot out toward Danny, Danny flinched back, his throat constricting as a panicked, desperate sound escape.
But Hot Gardener was reaching for Onion Breath, not Danny.
“Get the fuck off him,” the gardener snarled, spinning the other man around like a top and shoving him off the trail, hard enough to send him crashing into the blooming shrubs on the other side.
Danny started to shake, his liquefied knees still refusing to move, and then Hot Gardener did reach for him, yanking Danny behind his hard, imposing body and advanced on the other attacker. He bunched the second man’s shirt in his fist, practically lifting him off the ground, then leaned in close, getting right up in the bearded man’s face as he hissed a threat in a tone too low for Danny to catch the actual words. Whatever it was sent the man scrambling off down the path, though, Onion Breath hot on his heels.
Danny was frozen. Even though it had felt like things were happening in slow motion before the gardener showed up, everything since then had happened so fast that he was still having trouble convincing himself it was actually over. And then, to his total mortification, the shakes set in with a vengeance.
Hot Gardener was instantly at his side, reaching out as if he were going to steady Danny, but then pulling his hand back at the last second and rubbing the back of his neck instead.
“You okay?” he asked, his deep voice low and gruff and all the fury that had been on his face a moment ago replaced by an impassive mask as his eyes darted around the trail, briefly passing over Danny but refusing to settle on him.
Okay.
Okay?
What was… yeah. Danny was okay.
The word finally seeped into his shocked brain, and he nodded, crossing his arms over his chest as he tried to slow his breathing and calm the tremors that still wracked his body. Hot Gardener didn’t seem to want to meet his eyes, and after a moment the guy turned away completely, gathering up the sketchbook and pencil that had been scattered across the path and handing them back to Danny with that neutral expression he’d adopted firmly in place on his face.
“Thank you,” Danny said, pausing to clear his throat when his voice cracked. Embarrassing. God. “Lucky for me you came by,” he added, attempting a tremulous smile.
“Not luck,” the guy mumbled, his eyes darting to Danny’s for a split second before looking away again. “Saw you come this way.”
Danny blinked. He wasn’t sure what to make of that piece of information, but it definitely made his heart speed up again... in a much more exciting way than it had in response to his attackers a moment ago.
“You were... following me?” he asked tentatively, almost entirely sure that he must have misunderstood.
“No,” the man replied instantly, his eyes widening the barest fraction of an inch, almost like he was the one in a panic now even though the rest of his expression stayed decidedly neutral. Then the tips of his ears turned red and he mumbled, “I mean, sort of. But not to bother you.” He fished around in a pocket for a second and pulled out the earbuds Danny had been looking for all week, holding them out. “You left these in the rose garden,” he said. “Wanted to make sure you got them back.”
“You noticed me in the rose garden?” Danny asked a little breathlessly, not even caring if it sounded like he was fishing. Which of course he was. Other than that tips-of-the-ears thing, the ridiculously hot gardener seemed almost totally unaffected by him… but that didn’t stop the little frisson of excitement that Danny felt when his fingers brushed the other man’s callused palm as he took the earbuds back.
The gardener’s lips twitched at Danny’s question.
Danny would have missed the slight movement if he hadn’t been staring so hard at the other man’s delicious-looking mouth, but the could-almost-have-been-a-smile was there and gone so fast that Danny wondered if he’d just imagined it. And maybe he had, because the only answer he got to his question was a grunt and a jerk of the chin that might have been intended as a nod, and then… nothing.
Well.
Okay then.
Reality check time.
He needed to rein in his wishful thinking and just be grateful that the guy had come along when he had. And yes, somehow, miraculously, the man also remembered him from the rose garden because hello, he’d just returned the earbuds Danny had clearly left there, but reading anything more into the small act of kindness was clearly only going to be a recipe for disappointment.
And besides, it was past time for Danny to get back to the bakery.
“Well, thank you,” Danny said again, meaning it. The guy had saved him. That was enough, right? This was real life, not a fairy tale where he got saved and got the prince, too. Danny cleared his throat, doing a little better with a smile this time. “That was a little bit scary,” he added, which was by far the understatement of the century. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come by, so… I mean, I already said thank you, but thank you… again.”
Pathetic.
Sincere, but still pathetic.
At least the guy hadn’t noticed the naked sketches when he’d handed Danny back his sketchbook.
“You should be more careful,” the gardener said, somehow managing to look like he was frowning without actually doing it.
Danny stared, truly and completely sure that he’d actually never seen anyone as good looking. Although… God, was the guy allergic to showing an actual expression? Not that it took away from his sheer gorgeousness. At. All. And it was okay to look because Danny was an artist and the man was… art.
“You shouldn’t use this path until the azaleas stop blooming,” the gardener added gruffly, clearly oblivious to Danny’s overabundance of interest.
“Okay,” Danny agreed. He wasn't used to having people look out for him, and Hot Gardener’s concern instantly made his already-too-vivid imagination run wild again.
Which was stupid.
The guy worked here, for God’s sake. Keeping people out of trouble could be considered part of his job and was clearly, based on the total lack of interest or any other expression on the guy’s face, not personal.
“Well, thank you again. I won’t hold you up anymore,” Danny said, forcing himself to move away now that his knees seemed to be in working order again. “I’ve… um, I’ve got to get back to work anyway.”
“Where?” the gardener surprised him by asking, seeming to hesitate for a moment and then falling into step with him as Danny headed toward the road.
“Delicious,” Danny said, feeling heat blaze across his cheeks at how suggestive he’d managed to make the word sound. But really, could he be blamed? It most definitely applied to the man next to him just as much as it did to Gavin’s business.
The man who was… walking… next to him.
Why was he walking with Danny?
“It's a bakery,” Danny rushed to add before he could embarrass himself further by reading too much into the guy’s courtesy. “Over by—”
“I know where it is,” Hot Gardener interrupted.
“Oh. You do? I've never seen you come in.” Danny bit his lip, stealing a glance
at the other man’s expressionless face.
“Nope.”
Just… “nope”? God, could the man be any more taciturn? And why was that both maddening and magnetic at the exact same time?
Danny scrambled for some way to prolong the conversation, but came up with exactly... nothing.
They’d made it to the end of the trail and all the way to the bottom of the stone steps leading out of the park, and he paused before stepping onto the little bridge that crossed the stream at its border, blurting the first thing that came to mind. “If you ever want a cookie, you should stop in.”
Oh, God.
Really?
A cookie?
Maybe he should have just stuck with nothing.
He could feel himself blushing again, but he couldn’t seem to get his feet to move… or his mouth to stop moving.
“I’m Danny,” he volunteered, even though the guy hadn’t replied to the cookie comment yet. But he also hadn’t walked away. “And you’re... Mason?” Danny went on, noticing the name stitched on his shirt underneath the Tulsa Parks logo.
Danny put a hand on Mason’s arm without thinking, leaning in, but immediately snatched it away again when Mason’s eyes darted down to stare at it with yet another one of those indecipherably neutral expressions on his face.
“Just Mace,” Mason said, shoving his hands into his pockets as Danny fumbled with his sketchbook in an attempt to look like he hadn’t just been groping the guy. Mace started to turn back toward the park, but then paused to add, “Be careful, Danny.”
“Okay,” Danny said, the promise more breath then sound as, for no justifiable reason, his pulse started racing again.
Mace held his gaze for another moment, almost looking like he was going to finally crack a smile, and Danny’s heart did a little skittering dance at the sight.
The non-sight.
But still, Danny was pretty sure that a smile had almost happened on that gorgeous, expressionless face. And as if he didn't already have enough fodder for his fantasies about Hot Gardener—Mace—now he got to add knight in shining armor to them. And God, hearing his own name spoken in that deep voice…
“They can’t order me to stop dreaming,” Danny quoted his favorite princess under his breath when Mace finally turned away and headed back into the park. He clutched his sketchpad to his chest and drifted toward Delicious with a decided bounce in his step, doing just that.
And even if Mace hadn’t actually smiled at him, that was okay, too… because Danny’s radiant smile was big enough for the both of them.
Danny couldn’t sleep.
He punched his pillow into a more comfortable shape, switching positions for the umpteenth time in the last hour as he tried to will his eyes to stay closed. The problem, of course, was that every time they did, he smelled that onion breath again. God, he’d been so keyed up all afternoon about Mace coming to his rescue that he’d managed to avoid thinking about what he’d been rescued from.
Now, though, he couldn’t seem to stop.
Mace was right. He did need to be more careful. As much as he might wish that real life came with a guaranteed happy ending, he wasn’t naive. If Mace hadn’t been there today…
Danny flopped onto his back, staring at the ceiling.
He hated how powerless he’d felt.
He hated that he was now afraid to use that gorgeous, azalea-lined path again.
He hated that even though he hadn’t done anything to warrant harassment, those assholes had singled him out anyway, just for who he was.
And, even though it had brought him face to face with his hot gardener again—which was a definite win—he really, really hated that he’d had to be rescued in the first place.
Although, okay, he couldn’t totally hate that part, because… God. Mace.
Danny’s lips started to curl up as a lovely flutter moved through his belly. The man really was delicious, and now that he’d swooped in to save the day, Danny’s feelings about him had officially leveled up from simple erotic fantasies to full-on crushing, hard.
It didn’t matter that Mace had given exactly zero signs of interest, or that, objectively speaking, he’d barely even passed for what might be called friendly. Not when it came to crushing on him. Danny hadn’t seen anything to spark even the tiniest sliver of hope that Mace was anything but straight, but there was still something about the reserved park employee just got to Danny and made him… well, made him want to be wrong.
Wrong about Mace’s lack of interest.
Wrong about Mace being straight.
Wrong about his assumption that tonight, unlike Danny, Mace had probably found it easy to sleep.
Danny flopped over onto his back, his brain too hard-wired from a lifetime of binge watching happy endings to give up hope so easily. True, he doubted that Mace had given him so much as a second thought after they’d parted ways earlier that day, and Mace certainly wasn’t lying in his own bed somewhere, thinking of Danny the way Danny was thinking of him.
Imagining the two of them together.
Feeling… fluttery.
But that wasn’t any reason to give up hope or kill the dream, right?
Right?
Danny sighed, glancing at the clock on his nightstand. Okay, yes, maybe not a reason to kill the dream, but he really did need to get some sleep somehow. He also needed to stop remembering that Mace had said that he’d noticed Danny in the rose garden. Although... that was something, right? Because Mace hadn’t just noticed him, he’d remembered Danny enough to keep an eye out for him. Had gone out of his way to track him down with the earbuds. Had been there when Danny needed him. Had made him feel safe.
God, it was all too easy to imagine that it meant more than it had; that Mace really was his own personal Prince Charming. And yes, fine, okay, even without the mile-wide grin splitting his face as he stared up continued to stare up at the darkened ceiling, Danny knew he was getting carried away again. Making the man out to be too good to be true. But… damn. Could he be blamed? Mace had already been starring in his fantasies all week just from that first, silent glimpse in the rose garden. Now, when Danny added the fact that Mace had actually charged in to save him to his own lifelong, happily-ever-after addiction, then fleshed out those fantasies with the memory of Mace’s deep, sexy-as-sin voice, it was all too easy to paint a picture of exactly the kind of happy ending Danny’s heart had always craved.
Well, actually, it was easy to imagine several kinds of happy endings.
Danny bit his lip, suddenly very much aware of just how far his thoughts had shifted from the original ones that had plagued him as his cock grew thicker, pressing hungrily against his underwear. There was no doubt about it, thinking of Mace was turning him on. Which, all told, was definitely a better reason to be unable to sleep than the one he’d started with. Another checkmark in the Mace-saves-the-day column.
Danny let his hand skim down over his bare chest, his eyes drifting closed to better imagine the feel of a larger, rougher one in place of his own. To get lost in the fantasy that it was Mace’s touch gliding over the lightly-defined muscle of his stomach, Mace’s hand coming to rest on top of his hardening cock.
It had been far too long since anyone else had touched him, and as Danny lightly stroked himself through the thin material of his boxer briefs, his breath quickened from picturing Mace’s big, protective, oh-so-solid body wrapped around him.
The man was huge. If he were here, he would fill Danny’s small bed, those muscles of his that Danny had seen flexing and bunching under his park uniform and sketched so freely would press against every inch of him. It wouldn’t feel crowded, though. Whether it was due to Danny’s artistic eye or his romantic heart, he was absolutely sure that, just like two pieces of a puzzle, they’d fit together perfectly.
Danny moaned, pushing his underwear out of the way and finally wrapping his hand around his shaft. God, he wanted that. He wanted Mace. He wanted to feel those hard, callused hands on his skin. He wanted the swe
et friction that was already pushing him higher to come from the other man’s cock sliding against his rather than from his own all-too-familiar grip. He wanted to feel those gorgeous lips of Mace’s, the ones that he had yet to see actually smile, pressed against his throat… burning a trail across his jaw… playing over Danny’s lips as he opened for Mace. Tasted him. Sucked on Mace’s tongue and moaned into his hot, hungry mouth.
Danny’s breath quickened as he stroked himself faster and let himself picture it.
Licking his way into the wet heat of Mace’s mouth.
Memorizing the taste of his breath.
Arching up under the other man’s hard body and opening for him even more.
Because yes, Danny wanted to touch and be touched. Yes, he wanted to kiss and kiss and kiss, until he forgot himself and Mace remembered how to smile. Yes, he wanted the intoxication of skin on skin and to feel the delicious weight of another man’s body on top of his again—of Mace’s body on top of his—but that wasn’t all he wanted. The truth was that it had been too damn long since Danny had been fucked, and whenever he pictured Mace in his bed, he really, really wanted that, too.
Danny moaned, his hand moving even faster as he touched himself in all the ways he wished Mace was there to take care of and, with his eyes closed and his imagination in full control, fell all too easily into pretending that it was real. That Mace was really here, above him… pinning him down and opening him up... easing his way in and then driving deeper… going harder… pushing Danny’s knees back and fucking him just right, right there, giving Danny exactly what he needed, on and on and on, until sweet words and dirty groans and the wet slap of their skin coming together drowned out Danny’s gasping breaths and desperate, shuddering sobs as he was driven closer and closer to the edge.
“Mace,” Danny whispered, his eyes squeezed tightly closed. “Oh God. Mace.”
Danny’s fantasy wasn’t just to get fucked, it was to have Mace look down at him with those gorgeous dark eyes, hot with his own pleasure… to have him see how close Danny was and reach down to stroke Danny’s cock in time with his thrusts… to feel Mace’s hand, his cock, his body… to be looked at like he was really seen, like his pleasure was Mace’s pleasure, like Mace knew what he was doing, forcing Danny closer and closer to finding the release he… he needed.
The Delicious Series: The First Volume Page 4
