Maybe.
Possibly.
The crowd of people at the circulation desk finally dispersed, and Helen bustled over to him with a smile. “Can I help you find something in particular, Mason?”
“No,” he said, noting her look of surprise at his answer.
He knew it was out of character. He usually only came to the library when he needed something specific.
“This isn’t the section you usually browse in,” Helen said, raising an eyebrow. Then, as she noticed the Delicious bag in his hand, she winked and added, “You know you’re not supposed to have food in here.”
“Sorry,” he said, flushing with embarrassment. He held out the bag. “They’re for you.”
“Oh!” She beamed up at him. “I suppose we can make an exception then. I just love that bakery. That was thoughtful of you. What did you get?”
He felt oddly flustered as she took the bag from him. “I didn’t choose them, someone gave them to me.” He cleared his throat, shoving his hands into his pockets as she opened the bag and mumbling, “I thought you’d like some, too.”
She pulled one of the cookies out, a flower so pale it was almost white, but somehow also... not. “That’s gorgeous,” Helen said, her eyes sparkling as they widened in wonder. “It’s an azalea!”
“Danny decorated them,” Mace said, not sure why he was telling her. Or why he felt compelled to add, “For me. He works there.”
“Oh?” Helen’s head snapped up, her gaze sharpening with interest. “And which one is Danny?”
“The beautiful one.” Mace’s face flushed with heat the minute the words left his mouth. He hadn’t meant to say that. He really wasn’t good with words, and he was pretty sure you shouldn’t call another man beautiful. “I mean, he’s the blond one,” he added, hoping she’d let it slide if he explained. “He smiles a lot. Likes bright colors. He talks with his hands. They’re always moving, like he’s trying to paint his words on the air. He’s an artist.”
“Mm. I can see that,” she said, holding up the bag of cookies with twinkling eyes. “And he’s your… friend?”
“No.”
Mace didn’t really do friends, although Helen was… well, she was something. But Danny? Mace wasn’t sure what Danny was. Mace had only talked to him twice. Had only seen him three times… or maybe, four if you counted spying him in the bakery with Gavin that afternoon. More, if you counted the times that he’d thought about him when he wasn’t around. But none of that qualified them as friends. Danny had made—decorated—the cookies out of gratitude, not friendship, and now that Mace had received them, he doubted he’d see Danny again unless it was just in passing.
And if he were being honest with himself, that was just as disappointing as what he’d seen through the bakery window earlier.
Helen was still watching him expectantly, clearly waiting for more of an answer than just “no,” but when Mace didn’t offer anything else, she didn’t push. Mace appreciated that, because he didn’t have anything else to offer. He certainly couldn’t say he was disappointed that something was over when it had never existed in the first place.
“Okay,” Helen said simply when he stayed silent, smiling and patting his hand. “Well, thank you for the cookies, Mason. And let me know if you change your mind about needing anything,” she added as she started to walk away.
He plucked a book off the shelf at random, not wanting her to leave just yet even though he couldn’t have said exactly why. He glanced down. He’d grabbed a biography of someone he’d never heard of, Saving Alex, but instead of asking her about it he found himself thinking back to what he’d seen at the bakery. Danny hadn’t seemed to mind the bakery store owner touching him. It had looked natural, like they were used to each other. Comfortable together. Happy. The way he’d imagine Helen and Chris were together, from all the small moments of their lives that she’d shared with him.
“I think he likes men,” Mace blurted, still staring blindly at the book in his hand.
Helen turned back toward him, raising an eyebrow. “Yes?”
Mace wasn’t sure why he’d said that, but from what he’d seen, it seemed to be true.
Helen cocked her head to the side, waiting for him to say something else, but he didn’t… well, he didn’t have an opinion about Danny being gay. It didn’t have anything to do with him. Wasn’t his business. He wasn’t even sure why he’d brought it up.
Another memory surfaced, an old one, making more words spill out before Mace even realized he was planning on speaking. “There was a kid in one of the homes I lived in for a while. His name was Franklin. He was maybe thirteen? Fifteen? I don’t remember exactly. He wasn’t there for long.”
Frankie, the kid had wanted to be called. He’d been beautiful in a different way than Danny was. Some mix of ethnicities that had blessed him with curly hair and warm skin and dark eyes that angled up a little at the corners. He’d been into music, bands that Mace had never heard of, and he’d been obsessed with weird, old movies that were only available in black and white.
Frankie had lost his parents the year before he’d been placed in a home with Mace, and he hadn’t known his way around the system yet. He’d been eager to make friends, Mace remembered that, too. How Frankie had been too outgoing for his own good. Too open. Too quick to trust.
“Frankie didn’t get it,” he told Helen now, shoving the book back on the shelf where he’d gotten it. “He was fucking stupid. A little too interested in the other boys, which just got the shit beat out of him. Repeatedly. Gay was not an option where I lived.”
Mace had known Frankie was going to get himself into trouble from the first, and if he’d been smarter, he would have steered clear. He’d meant to. Hadn’t wanted to like him. He just… hadn’t been able to help himself.
Trevor had called him an idiot for giving a shit about what happened to a newb, and Trevor had been right, but even so, Mace hadn’t been able to stomach standing by and doing nothing when Frankie inevitably got on the wrong side of… well, everyone, just for being the way he was. Frankie had moved on after about a month. A month during which Mace had walked a fine line of trying and all too often failing to protect the guy from his own stupidity.
The kid just hadn’t seemed able to learn, but Mace had most definitely taken the lesson to heart.
Helen gave him a compassionate look, and for some reason it made his throat feel too tight. “Well,” she said after a moment. “You don’t live there anymore, Mason.”
He stared at her for a moment, letting that sink in. He didn’t, did he?
Thank fucking God.
The constriction in his chest started to ease. Nothing was beautiful where he’d lived before. Nothing was nurtured, or cared for, or grew. But he didn’t live there anymore, and things were different here.
Or at least, maybe they could be.
5
Danny
Danny squinted as the sun gleamed off the water feature in the rose garden. He’d looked everywhere for his sunglasses that morning, but even though he could have sworn he’d worn them home the day before, he hadn’t been able to find them before leaving his apartment. He was confident they’d turn up though. Well, reasonably confident.
Mace wasn’t around, a fact that he was trying to convince himself was a sign to stop thinking about the man. He’d stayed away from the park all week, but now that he’d told Mace where he worked, he hadn’t been able to stop looking up hopefully every time the little bell over the door of the bakery announced a new walk-in. None of whom had been Mace. Not surprisingly. No matter how rattled Danny had been by their brief meeting earlier in the week, if he were going to go over it objectively, Mace had once again failed to show any sign of interest.
Not that Danny was good at being objective. In fact, his overactive imagination was much too eager to read more into the few minutes he’d spent with Mace than had actually been there. Like that smile, and the way the memory of it still made Danny’s heart flutter even though h
e’d spent the entire week trying to convince himself that he knew better.
The day he’d gone looking for Mace to give him the azalea cookies, he’d spent almost his entire lunch hour roaming the park. He’d just about given up on finding the hot gardener by the time he’d finally caught sight of him, and when Mace had turned to look at him… good God. The guy already ticked just about every one of his boxes, but smiling? The sight had just about stopped Danny’s heart. Not least of which was because, for a split second, it had felt like Mace’s smile had been just for him.
Which, obviously, didn’t make any sense and wasn’t true. Mace didn’t even know him, so he certainly couldn’t have been happy to see him. And he clearly didn’t want to know Danny, either, since he hadn’t come looking for him at the bakery. Whatever Danny had thought he’d seen in Mace’s unexpectedly brilliant smile—silly dreams filtered and distorted by a lifetime of swooning over fairytale princesses who were swept off their feet by their one true love—once he’d handed over the cookie and they’d started talking, it had been lost. Mace’s face had gone back to the already familiar state of impassive gorgeousness that seemed to be his default expression, and no matter how closely Danny had watched him, Mace had shown none of the little tells that might have meant he was interested.
Even if he had spouted off some ridiculously romantic things about flowers.
That had completely caught Danny off-guard. It hadn’t been at all what he’d expected from the other man but had fit in all too perfectly with Danny’s completely unrealistic fantasies about him. Although of course in those fantasies, Mace would have been directing the words at Danny, rather than just imparting information.
I love you.
Wishes will come true.
Danny gave himself a mental eye roll. Yeah, right. Dream on. Which, Danny thought with a sigh as he scanned the empty rose garden one last time, was exactly what he had been doing. Time to give up the dream, though, at least for today.
He turned to leave, walking straight into a hard chest.
Danny’s eyes shot up as he stumbled backward, flutters exploding in his stomach.
Mace.
His arm snaked around Danny’s waist, steadying him. Well, maybe not steadying, but keeping him from falling over, at least. Mace’s strong hold made Danny feel all sorts of unsteady on the inside, wonderfully so, but before he could enjoy all the lovely things that Mace’s touch did to him, the moment was over. Mace let him go, scooping up the bag of cookies that had fallen to the ground when they’d collided and holding it out to Danny with an almost imperceptible curve of his lips.
Danny shook his head, refusing the bag. “They’re for you,” he said, wishing he didn’t sound so ridiculously breathless. Mace’s lips had curved. That had been the hint of a smile, right?
“More azaleas?” Mace asked, his eyes locked onto Danny’s like they were intent on sending a thousand delicious shivers through him, painting his insides with all the stuff that dreams were made of.
Except… no. He was seeing what he wanted to. And God, could he be any more obvious? At least, if Mace recognized what Danny had made.
“No,” Danny managed, feeling foolish. “Not… not azaleas this time.”
He bit his lip, almost wishing he could take the bag back even though it was the reason he’d come. He’d been looking up the meaning of different flowers all week, the romanticism of it burrowing into his artists heart and finding a perfect home. He’d bored Gavin to tears as he’d spouted off his new knowledge, insisting they update Delicious’s website with little snippets of the information to go with their online orders. And when they’d received an order for a spring flower mix, he hadn’t been able to resist making extra jonquil cookies after he’d discovered the meaning of the sweetly hopeful flowers.
Love me, Google had obligingly told him when he’d searched them. Jonquils represent the desire for affection returned.
But… but maybe Mace wouldn’t know the meaning of these particular flowers. Or if he did, he wouldn’t realize Danny did, too. He wouldn’t think it was intentional.
Mace pulled out one of the white and yellow cookies with another almost-smile hovering around his mouth. He didn’t comment, though, and Danny let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, not sure if he was relieved or disappointed that Mace didn’t comment on their hidden message.
“I forgot to thank you,” Mace said instead, his slow, deep voice doing delicious things to Danny’s insides when he stopped admiring the cookie and met Danny’s eyes again. “For the other ones.”
“You’re welcome.”
Oh, God. Danny was never at a loss for words. Quite the opposite, usually. He really hadn’t thought this through, though, and with Mace right there in front of him looking like every dream Danny had ever had, he felt uncharacteristically tongue-tied.
Mace wasn’t acting even remotely interested in him.
But then again, he also wasn’t acting not interested.
He was just… Mace. Gorgeous and silent and giving nothing away, which left Danny with no idea where to take the conversation, if the few words they’d exchanged could actually be called that.
Mace wasn’t acting impatient to get back to whatever he’d been doing, but he also made no effort to keep Danny talking. Honestly, it almost would have been easier if he’d been an asshole about the whole thing or just stayed wholey unattainable the way Danny had assumed he was the first time he’d caught sight of him. Danny could deal with unattainable and fantasies that never had a hope of going anywhere, but instead the hot gardener gave him just enough to keep the tiny seed of hope alive inside him.
Those faint hints of happiness.
The way he looked at Danny, as intently and carefully as he’d tended the roses… traced the petals of the azalea cookies… watched him now, as the silence stretched between them.
Danny chewed on his lip, scrambling for something else to say, and shoved his hands in his pockets to keep them still.
He didn’t want to leave.
He wanted Mace to want him to stay.
Mace cleared his throat. “Anyone else giving you any trouble lately?” he asked, jerking his chin in the direction of the azalea-lined trails.
“No,” Danny said, a smile blooming on his face when Mace finally broke the silence. “I came in through the street entrance this time,” he added.
Mace nodded, shifting the bag to his other hand and staying maddeningly quiet.
Too late, though. The floodgates had already opened.
“It’s a little longer of a walk, but I’m getting used to it. To walking, I mean,” Danny went on, incapable of stopping the torrent of words now that he’d started. “I lost my car keys a few weeks ago—well, not really lost since I’m sure they’re somewhere in my apartment, but they’re currently still not found, so I’ve been walking to work lately. Which is nice, really, with the weather we’ve been having. And Gavin likes to say I need the exercise, which I suppose is always true, right? Because exercise is a good thing. In general, I mean. For health. Not that I do that much of it, I guess. Other than the walking that I mentioned, which I’m… well, which I’m doing a lot of lately.”
Oh, God.
He finally wound down, voice trailing off quietly. He knew for sure he’d just overshared and suspected that he’d come off sounding like an idiot, too. Worse, his babbling had Mace frowning now... which probably meant that the next thing out of Mace’s mouth would be some version of goodbye, and that would be the end of the dream.
Danny held his breath, eyes glued to Mace’s lips and heart pounding out of his chest as he waited for it and fought in vain with the part of him that hoped he was wrong. He’d had plenty of experience being told goodbye, though, and was pretty sure he wasn’t wrong about where the conversation was headed now, especially since Mace was… well, not actually frowning—that lick-worthy mouth of his that Danny was having a hard time looking away from hadn’t curved downward or anything—but his gorgeously i
mpassive face was still doing something subtle that made it more than obvious to someone as observant as Danny that Mace was frowning on the inside.
“Doesn’t the bakery close late?” Mace finally asked, which had nothing to do with anything they’d been talking about as far as Danny could tell, but also wasn’t “goodbye,” so immediately sent a flutter of hope skittering through his unquenchable heart again.
“I guess? We close at eight,” Danny answered, smiling too widely at the chance to keep talking about something, anything. “It used to be six,” he rushed to add, oversharing again because he couldn’t have stopped the flood of words if he’d tried. “But Gav wanted to try keeping it open later since we get more foot traffic this time of year. Evenings are still pretty slow, though, but our mail order business is picking up, so that’s when I prep most of the online orders to ship out the next day. Sometimes I’m there even later,” —especially if he got lost in the zone, creating beautiful things— “but we definitely close the doors at eight.”
And lock them.
For customers and, ugh. Gavin was still using UPS for deliveries and once, Tad had seen the light on and tried to knock on the door late to “check for any pickups,” even though Danny hadn’t scheduled one and hadn’t let the guy in. He hadn’t mentioned it to Gav because apparently, UPS offered the best rates or whatever—despite their poor taste in delivery drivers—and he knew how much Gavin stressed about making sure Delicious stayed afloat. Unfortunately, that meant that slimy Tad was in the bakery almost daily since their online business was booming, too.
The relentless UPS driver was still showing every sign of trying to work his way into the pants of anyone and everyone on his route—an indiscriminate player who didn’t seem to care about gender, age, or other attributes and had seemingly gone after just about everyone working the shops along the street who had a pulse—and he had yet to take Danny’s completely unsubtle hints that it was never going to happen.
The Delicious Series: The First Volume Page 6
