Danny swallowed hard. “I did. I mean, I tried to. Last night. But the minute I touched him, he acted like I’d burned him or something.” He tried to laugh, blinking away the hot prick of tears that he didn’t need to embarrass himself by shedding any more of. “It was bad, Gav. He jumped away from me so fast he almost gave me whiplash. And then he just… left. Am I really that hideous?”
“Of course you’re not, sweetie.” Gavin pulled him close, wrapping him in a hug that Danny really, really needed. “And no matter what’s going on in this guy’s head, he clearly doesn’t deserve you. Leaving like that? He sounds like an asshole.”
“That’s the thing, though,” Danny said, his voice muffled against his friend’s shoulder as he let himself slump against him, willing to take whatever comfort he could get. “He’s not.”
“If he can’t appreciate what’s right in front of him, then he is,” Gavin said seriously, straightening up and taking Danny’s face between his hands. “You’re better off without him.”
Danny nodded automatically. He knew Gav was right... even if his traitorous heart couldn’t seem to agree.
A movement outside the window caught his attention. It was Mace, looking like he might actually be waiting for Danny the way he had been every other night lately. As if nothing was different. As if nothing had changed. And that traitorous heart of Danny’s? It wanted so badly for that to be true.
Danny must have made a sound, because Gavin turned to look.
“That’s him,” Danny whispered, flutters bursting to life in his chest.
Gavin frowned, then shook his head with a little laugh when he turned back to face Danny and saw whatever expression was on his face. “Oh, Danny. It’s not going to matter what I say, is it?”
Danny nibbled his lip, his stomach tied up in knots as he wondered why Mace had come. His mind frantically went over the events of the night before, wondering if he’d missed something. He’d honestly thought he wouldn’t see Mace again. Mace had run away from him. But now… now...
“Go kiss your frog, princess,” Gav said, kissing Danny’s forehead and then giving him a little shove in the direction of the door. “I’ll close up.”
Danny may have said goodbye.
Or not.
He didn’t remember.
“No matter what the heart is grieving, if you keep on believing…” Danny whispered under his breath for encouragement, wondering if he had a lot in common with Cindy after all. Sure, she’d lost it all when the clock struck midnight, but in the end, she’d gotten her man and those killer glass slippers and her happily-ever-after, too, hadn’t she?
And just maybe… well, maybe there was still hope for Danny, too.
Mace was walking away.
He was already halfway across the street by the time Danny made it out the door, but apparently Danny was either a glutton for punishment or he believed in hope a little too hard, because even though walking away was a pretty good sign that Mace didn’t want to talk to him after all, Danny raced to catch up anyway.
“Mace,” Danny said, grabbing for his arm. “Wait.”
Mace froze, hesitating for a moment before he turned back to face Danny. His eyes flickered down to Danny’s hand with one of his unreadable expressions, and Danny snatched it off his arm, the sick feeling of rejection he’d felt the night before starting to fill his stomach.
“Were you waiting for me?” he asked anyway, because like Mrs. Potts told Belle, if you lose hope, you lose everything.
Mace jerked his head in something that passed for a nod. “Sorry. I didn’t realize you weren’t alone,” he added gruffly, glancing back over Danny’s shoulder toward the bakery.
“I was alone,” Danny said, his cheeks flushing with heat. “I messed up the alarm system, and my phone…” God, embarrassing. “Um, Gav got worried and came in. But he’s going to lock up for me now, so I’m headed home. By myself. So… so I’ll be walking to my apartment, like I always do.”
With you.
But Danny forced himself to leave it at that, even though he had to practically bite his tongue to keep from asking if Mace still wanted to walk with him.
Mace’s lips tightened into a thin line, then he let out a little gust of breath, as if keeping his mouth closed was as impossible for him as it usually was for Danny. “Do you have your pepper spray?”
“No,” Danny said, breathing the word out on a cloud of hope.
Mace stared at him.
Danny swallowed.
He wasn’t going to ask. Couldn’t. That would be too much.
“Um, do you want to walk me home?”
There was a definite difference between nerves and flutters. Instead of the slow, sexy smile Mace usually gave Danny, he looked away. Rubbed the back of his neck and stared toward the bakery and didn’t answer just long enough for Danny to die a little inside.
But then—
“Yeah, I do,” Mace finally said, just as his phone chirped, drowning out the giddy little sigh of relief Danny let escape at his answer.
Mace pulled it out of his pocket, glanced at the screen with an indecipherable look, then tucked it away again without comment.
Danny contained his curiosity with a Herculean effort, scrambling for something to say as they started walking. Something other than “why are you here,” because he just couldn’t.
“Did you see the new hanging baskets we put by the front door?” he asked instead. Lame. Except flowers, right? Always a good fallback topic with Mace. “I talked Gavin into replacing our old ones when I saw these. They’re Million Bells, like…”
Like the ones he’d asked Mace the name of the first night he’d walked Danny home.
He gave himself a mental eye roll. Mace wouldn’t remember that.
“I didn’t know they came in so many colors,” Danny finished instead, pathetically desperate to keep the conversation going by any means necessary.
No, not “pathetically desperate.” Hopeful. He was holding out hope.
Mace’s eyes flicked back to the bakery—to the hanging baskets—and he nodded, the faintest hint of a smile finally showing.
Did he not want to talk to Danny?
Then why had he come?
God, the man was maddening… and Danny was a coward, because he wasn’t going to ask what he really wanted to know. Not again. He’d much rather limp along with one glass slipper and his dreams intact, or at least only slightly bruised, just for a little bit longer.
“Well, do you like them?” Danny pushed, unreasonably irritated at the other man’s lack of communication skills. “The… the hanging baskets?”
Why.
Was.
Mace.
Here?
Danny definitely hadn’t imagined the fact that Mace had run away from him the night before, and yet here he was again, showing up with no explanation offered. Just… here. Calmly walking by Danny’s side with his neutral-face on, both too close and too far away, as if he was still oblivious to the fact that Danny wanted him more than breath.
“I do like them.” Mace finally answered quietly.
Hallelujah. He spoke. And why that fact had Danny’s throat closing up, he didn’t know.
Mace had said he liked the flowers, not Danny.
“I like beautiful things,” Mace volunteered after a minute, slanting a hot look down at Danny that gave him butterflies in his stomach.
“Me, too,” Danny blurted, going from hurt--uh, annoyed to painfully hopeful in the space of a single heartbeat.
But no. No no no no no. Nope. He was not going to let himself take that look as innuendo, no matter how much he wanted to. There was hope, and then there was just pointless self flagellation.
“I know you do,” Mace said, giving up another small smile as his eyes moved over Danny’s face, settling for the briefest of moments on his lips before bouncing back up to stare into Danny’s.
“You know I do… what?” Danny asked, suddenly breathless.
Despite his best intentions
, he’d lost track of the conversation. That had not been his imagination. Had it? He licked his lips nervously, trying to ignore the fact that they were literally tingling from the look that Mace may or may not have just dropped on them.
“I know you like beautiful things, Danny,” Mace answered, holding his gaze. “You make them. And I see the way beauty catches your eye. You get distracted by it whenever you pass by something pretty. There are little hesitations in your speech while your eyes take it in, and you reach out to touch the things that you like. Your fingers twitch toward them every time, even when you hold yourself back from making contact. And sometimes your breath catches a little and your eyes lose focus, as if you’re taking the beauty you see inside yourself and doing something else with it. Something magical. Letting it inspire you, or maybe just move you…”
Mace’s voice trailed off and he looked away, the tips of his ears turning red, and Danny’s heart did a slow roll in his chest.
God. He could cry again. Where had all those words suddenly come from?
How could Mace possibly know him so well?
And how could Mace see him, all of him, but still not… not want him?
Because even though it was by far the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to him—ever—Mace still wasn’t looking at him. He didn’t reach for Danny’s hand or give him one of those fleeting, sexy-as-sin smiles, or do one single, solitary thing to prove that his heartbreakingly-sweet words hadn’t just been some sort of auditory hallucination brought on by Danny’s lifelong obsession with happy endings.
Mace’s phone chirped again, and when he didn’t check it, Danny’s willpower cracked.
“Someone wants you,” he said with a pointed look at the other man’s pocket. Gavin’s voice rang in his head. If he can’t appreciate what’s right in front of him…
Mace just grunted, still ignoring it.
“Do you need to be somewhere?” Danny pressed.
“No,” Mace answered tersely. Then, as if he knew he’d been too abrupt, he added, “It’s just my ex. She wants to meet up.”
Oh.
She.
The word was like a vice, tightening painfully around Danny’s chest and forcing all the air out of his lungs.
So.
There was that.
No wonder Mace had freaked out when Danny had touched him. Either Danny had misinterpreted everything, or Mace was just another in a long line of guys who couldn’t admit that they wanted him. Not publicly. Hell, apparently not even in the privacy of Danny’s apartment.
Although, if that was really it, and if Mace ever got over his straight-guy confusion enough to make a move—God help him, Danny might just ignore his self-respect and take whatever Mace was willing to give him. But it wouldn’t be everything. It wouldn’t be what Danny’s stubborn heart had always held out the hope of finding.
He squeezed his eyes closed, breathing slowly through his nose as his dreams withered and died. Mace was still talking—his voice still that same low, heart-hammering rumble that melted Danny inside—but this time, it grated against the mantra of she-she-she-she playing in his head, making him want to scream.
Which was good, because it brought him to his senses.
He forced his eyes open, facing reality. Someday, his prince might still come… but that day wasn’t today.
“…wish you’d carry that pepper spray,” Mace was saying, as if the spell hadn’t just broken.
“I keep forgetting it,” Danny said. He took a deep breath, because a clean break was better. “But I finally found my car keys,” he made himself say. “They turned up over the weekend, so I think I’m going to… to start driving to work again.”
“You found… ? Oh.” Mace’s mouth closed on the last word with an audible snap, and he looked away, a muscle ticking in his jaw before he let out a breath, visibly forcing himself to relax. “I didn’t even hear you, you know,” he said quietly, the apparent non-sequitur confusing Danny for a moment. “On the azalea path at the park. If someone bothers you again, you should make some noise. Even if it doesn’t get them to back off, calling out might bring you some help. Keep you safe.”
Danny nodded, not really paying attention. Too busy trying to convince himself that his heart wasn’t actually breaking. Which, no matter what it felt like, definitely sounded overly dramatic, even for him. After all, it wasn’t like he’d been dating Mace. He hadn’t even known the man that long, not really. Just long enough to build him up in his mind to be someone that he wasn’t.
Fantasy Mace.
Happily-Ever-After Mace.
Prince-Goddamn-Charming Mace.
Danny blinked hard, his eyes stinging all over again, and God, he really needed to stop watching fucking Disney movies and grow the fuck up. Live in the real world. Go find someone who wanted him. Hell, maybe even take Tad up on his endless offers to so graciously allow him to suck the man’s dick. Whatever it took to Stop. Wanting. What. He. Couldn’t. Have.
“Danny, are you listening to me?” Mace asked, shocking him out of his pity party by actually deigning to touch him. He grabbed Danny’s arm and stepped in front of him so that Danny had to stop. And he looked… upset? Well, he looked something, at least. Danny wasn’t sure how to read the expression on Mace’s face actually, but it was definitely more emotion than the man usually showed. “This is important,” Mace said, letting go of Danny’s arm. “I need you to be safe.”
“Okay,” Danny said, trying to figure out what he’d missed while he’d been wallowing in his heartbreak. Well, heart bruise, at least. What had Mace said again? Oh, right. “Make noise. Got it.”
Mace clenched his jaw, still not moving out of the way as he stared down at Danny with an intensity that was not not not sexy. It couldn’t be. Danny wouldn’t let it.
“The guy who attacked you was holding your shoulder, but your arms were still free,” Mace said, his mind so clearly in a different place than Danny’s that it might have been funny if it hadn’t hurt so bad. “You should have hit him, Danny. You should have tried to get away.”
Danny laughed, a weak sound that somehow managed to squeeze out around the lump in his throat. “I’m not very good at hitting people, Mace,” he said. “But don’t worry about it. I’ll carry the pepper spray, okay?”
Mace reached for Danny’s hands, manipulating them into unfamiliar positions. “You should go for the eyes,” he said as if Danny hadn’t spoken. “Or the throat. Bridge of the nose.” He pulled Danny’s hands toward his face, demonstrating each suggestion. “Or you can kick, which might be better. It will keep more distance between you and your attacker. Aim for a knee, or you can always go between the legs. Use your body weight…”
Danny stared at him, zoning out on the bizarre instructions while he tried not to react to the fact that Mace was touching him. Finally. Was taking charge of Danny’s body, moving it where Mace wanted it, sending delicious little tremors rippling through Danny’s skin as he ran those big, rough hands all over it.
A torrent of words poured out of Mace’s normally silent mouth as he held Danny tightly, pulled him close, enveloped him in his scent and heat and strength, focused all his attention on Danny with an intensity that made heat coil low in Danny’s belly no matter how badly his heart was bruised, making it almost impossible to remember that the man wasn’t attracted to him, he was just trying to give Danny some sort of self-defense lesson.
Danny almost wanted to laugh.
Or cry.
Probably that second one.
“Are you paying attention?” Mace asked, his eyes boring into Danny as he went still.
“Yep,” Danny lied. “You want me to hit… um, the face?”
“Not the ‘face.’ The eyes. Or the throat. Like this.” Mace did something with Danny’s hands again, the heat of his touch sending a delicious shiver through Danny’s body.
It was torture.
Heaven.
Danny should really, really make it stop, but he’d been right about how desp
erately he wanted whatever Mace would give him. He never wanted it to stop.
“Are you okay, young man?” a quavering voice suddenly called out, startling him.
Danny looked over to Mace’s find an elderly couple staring at them from across the street. Well, really, they were staring at Mace... who immediately dropped his hands as his face reverted to its more familiar state of expressionless calm.
He took a step away from Danny, putting too much space between them, and Danny instantly missed the contact.
God, he was hopeless.
“I’m fine, thank you,” Danny called back to the couple, giving them a strained smile. “We were just, uh, practicing.”
They looked like they weren’t sure whether to believe them, so he widened his smile, patting Mace’s arm to show how friendly the two of them were. The little show finally seemed to satisfy the concerned couple, and they smiled back, waving a little as they continued on.
“You weren’t paying attention,” Mace said quietly once they’d left. “Can I come up?”
Danny’s heart fluttered. “Why?” he asked, telling himself he was going to say no.
Liar.
“Let me show you the moves again,” Mace said, his eyes burning with an intensity Danny refused to read anything whatsoever into. “Please, Danny. I just… I need to know that you can take care of yourself.”
Clean break, Danny reminded himself.
Clean.
Break.
But even as he repeated the words in his head, Danny was already nodding, fishing his keys out of his pocket and leading Mace up the stairs to his apartment, his heart ignoring his head as if it refused to give up on the idea that somewhere, there just might be a fairy godmother waiting in the wings to make his impossible dreams come true.
8
Mace
Danny’s demeanor was a stark contrast to what it had been the last time Mace had been in his apartment. His normally expressive face was guarded this time, the sparkle missing from his eyes. Mace knew he should take the hint that his company wasn’t welcome, but Danny had agreed to spend a few more minutes with him and he couldn’t bring himself to leave until Danny asked him to.
The Delicious Series: The First Volume Page 10
