Was Nick truly going to stick it out in a long-distance relationship?
Would he actually want Jeremy in Seattle, if they could ever find a way to make it possible?
Did Nick… love him?
Jeremy knew his own answers to those questions. And he felt like he knew where Nick stood, too. But Jeremy was a man of words, and the longer he went without actually hearing the ones he wanted from Nick, the more daunting the idea of bringing them up himself felt.
He knew what tell-it-like-it-is Gavin would say about that; he should just push aside the nerves aside and ask. It definitely wasn’t very Jeremy 2.0 to give in to that 1% kernel of insidious fear, especially when Nick had never, not once, given him a reason to doubt him. But knowing what to do and having the courage to do it weren’t always the same thing.
Because what if he did, only to find out that he’d been wrong about Nick?
Just like he’d been wrong about all the men who’d come before him.
Gavin had to leave for an appointment, and after getting a sympathetic and entirely too sweaty hug from the man, they said their goodbyes and Jeremy headed to his own car. He huffed out a breath as he started it up, irritated with himself for letting his thoughts start to spiral into the missing-Nick abyss. Falling into that stomach-clenching pit of doubt wasn’t going to help anything, and like he’d been telling himself for the last couple of months, a) it was ridiculous, Nick lov— well, at least really cared about him, for real, and b) all Jeremy had to do was make it to September.
The end of September.
September 25th at 1:54 p.m., to be exact, since he’d already booked his ticket.
Then he’d know, right? Because doubts and fears aside, there was no way Jeremy was going to fly all the way out to Seattle and not get the answers to those questions. And if the answers were what he wanted them to be—yes, yes, and yes—then come hell or high water, he was going to find a way to make some changes.
Obstacles? He’d go J2oh on their asses.
J2oh sounded way more bad-ass than “Jeremy 2.0,” in his opinion. He was definitely going to start using that from now on.
But the point was, he may have had that stomach-churning 1% uncertainty when it came to how Nick felt about him, but there was 0% doubt about what Jeremy wanted.
Nick.
Forever.
And not just the FaceTime version.
Jeremy swiped his Kindle to flip to the next page, glancing at the door of Sir Reads-a-lot guiltily. If Kelley caught him reading on the Kindle instead of one of the real live books that were their bread and butter, she’d have a fit. As far as he was concerned, though—and even if he wouldn’t say it out loud in front of her—e-books rocked. Especially since he could find so many more gay romances in that format than he could in paperback.
Jeremy’s glasses started to slip down his nose, and he pushed them higher, forgetting about the hot men in the book he’d just been reading as the action reminded him of his own much hotter man. Jeremy grinned. He’d forgotten that he’d had his glasses on when Nick had FaceTimed him the night before, and they’d made it through the first ten minutes of the conversation before Nick had said anything about it. Well, not exactly said.
“What?” Jeremy had asked, patting down his cowlick and wondering if he had something stuck between his teeth when Nick had paused mid-sentence and just… stared at him.
“Sorry, Pumpkin,” Nick had said, not sounding like he meant it even a little bit. “Your sexy librarian look is distracting me.”
Jeremy had jerked the glasses off his face self-consciously at the reminder, which had meant that the image of Nick’s face instantly went from swoon-worthy to an amoeba-like blur.
Shit.
He’d put them back on.
Nick had still been looking at him, one eyebrow raised in a silent invitation to explain his little moment of overreaction. Nick had never—not once—made Jeremy feel anything but good about himself, but still, he’d prefer to have Nick see him at his best. Especially when they were apart like this. No need to feed that 1% any more than he had to.
But before he’d been able to bring himself to admit his insecurities, Nick’s eyes had gone from curious to caring. The man—as usual—had read him like a book.
“I like them, J,” Nick had said, sounding sincere as he leaned closer to the screen. Then he’d bitten his lip, fucking sexy, and—in a much lower tone of voice that sent Jeremy’s pulse racing—added, “I want you to be sure to bring them when you fly out.”
Turned on or not—and let’s be real, that was his usual state around Nick. Even virtual-Nick—Jeremy had had to laugh at that. Um, no. He was planning on packing the ass-flattering jeans he’d just bought, a gallon of lube, and the results letter from the clinic that would let him put that lube to good use. He really didn’t think he’d need much more than that.
Well, maybe some running shoes for the Mudder.
But that was it.
He’d shifted in his seat, feeling his cock start to swell at the thought of going bareback for the first time. And—damn—Nick had still been looking at him like he’d actually meant the sexy librarian comment. The wicked gleam in his boyfriend’s eyes had made Jeremy want to switch from their usual catch-up-on-the-day call to a livestream phone sex version. Immediately.
“I want to fuck you wearing nothing but your glasses, J” Nick had said, clearly on the same page. He’d leaned back in his chair, far enough that Jeremy had been able to see all of him, and added, “It’s kind of a personal fantasy of mine.”
The door to Sir Reads-a-lot swung open, interrupting Jeremy’s little trip to his mentally very-happy place, and Kelley came in with a stack of letters in her hand. Jeremy tucked his Kindle under the counter, grabbing for the first book he could reach and flipping it open on the off chance that he’d get away with acting like he’d been working. Well, quality checking, at least.
Kelley plopped the mail on the counter next to him, glancing down at the book in his hands.
“Harvest of Hope? Isn’t that an Amish romance?” she’d asked.
Jeremy frowned, looking down at it. “Why do we stock Amish romance? Do people actually read this?”
Her lip quirked up. “They only read it for the sex.”
Seriously? Fictional Amish people had sex? Oh. She was joking. He shoved the sex-less wonder aside and pulled the stack of mail toward him, flipping through the envelopes. Bill. Bill. Another bill. Something from Ava. Jeremy grinned, tossing the boring bits aside and slitting open the munchkin’s envelope with a quill-shaped letter opener. He pulled out a brightly colored piece of construction paper.
“Thanks for taking the deposit to the bank, Kelley,” he said absently, his attention shifting to the most recent installment of his refrigerator decoration collection.
This one was labeled “Things To Do When You’re Here #12” in Ava’s chunky block letters, and at first glance, the drawing made his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Then he laughed. Oh. Okay. While he could easily guess who the three stick-like figures holding hands were supposed to be, it had taken him a moment to tell what they were supposed to be… licking. Froyo. Of course. Regardless of how, um, anatomically correct, the frozen yogurt in a cone appeared to be.
Ava may have been a prodigy in some regards, but her artistic skills were solidly in the standard six-year-old range.
“Do you want me to take care of these?” Kelley asked, shuffling through the half of the mail he hadn’t gotten to yet.
Jeremy looked up, his brow furrowing in concern. Kelley was normally pretty bubbly, but now that their little moment of Amish fun had passed, she sounded suspiciously subdued.
“Everything okay?” Jeremy asked, setting Ava’s latest masterpiece aside.
She nodded as she flipped through the bills without looking up. Then her eyes welled up with tears.
“Oh my God, what?” Jeremy asked, skidding around the counter and pulling her into a hug. Kelley was totally not a crier.
&n
bsp; “I talked to Will Edwards at the bank,” she said, sniffling.
The small, community bank they used was owned by the Edwards family—Ben’s family—but Ben was the only one that Jeremy knew personally. They’d all been at the wedding though, and he tried to place which one had been Will. Nope. The only non-Gavin memories he had from the wedding involved Nick. And that alcove they’d found… God.
He really needed to get himself to Seattle… but this wasn’t the time for a Nick-gasm.
“Who?” Jeremy asked, refocusing on Kelley.
“Will,” she repeated. “He runs the loan department.”
“Okay,” Jeremy said, wracking his brain. Shit. He knew Kelley had been working with Ben for some banking thing to do with her business degree but, God, he couldn’t for the life of him remember the details. His brain just wanted to shut down whenever spreadsheets and financial statements were mentioned, but obviously this was something super important to her. And since she was super important to him, he’d have to man up and try to do… something. “Are you getting a loan?” he asked, making the logical deduction.
“No,” she said, sucking in a shuddering breath. She wiped her face, stepping away and giving him a watery smile. “I don’t qualify.”
“Oh, honey. Do you need money?” Not that Jeremy had any extra to speak of, but this was Kelley. They’d figure it out. “Maybe I can give you a raise.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “No, you really can’t, Jeremy. The store can’t afford it. But thank you anyway. And I’m fine for day-to-day stuff, this was about the SBA loan that Ben and Gavin have been helping me put together the application for.”
“Um, oh,” he said, wondering what SBA meant. Something to do with the business plan she’d been putting together for her entrepreneurship class, no doubt. Gavin had been raving about it, but the details hadn’t stuck.
“It’s not the end of the world,” she said, sighing. “It was just disappointing, you know? Will walked me through what I’ll need to do, and I can probably qualify in a few years, it’s just… I had all these plans.”
He knew she’d been planning on starting a business of her own once she graduated with her business degree, something that was about to happen any day now. Honestly, he didn’t see the appeal, but he knew it mattered to her. She’d been working toward it for years. Jeremy was the king of having plans that didn’t pan out, dreams that never came true—although, okay, maybe not so much anymore, not now that he was J2oh, but still—he knew how it felt to be disappointed. If anyone deserved to get what they wanted in life, it was Kelley.
Which is why he ignored the very small, shamefully selfish part of him did a tiny little happy dance—a dance that he was not proud of—at the thought of her staying with him longer. This wasn’t about him.
Also, he was not, in fact, a shitty person.
“I’m sorry, Kelley,” he said sincerely. “Maybe Gavin can pull some strings. That bank is missing out if they think you’re not qualified. You practically run this place already. If my grandma had had any sense, she would have left it to you, rather than me.”
Kelley laughed, just like he’d hoped she would
“That would have been hard for her to do, given that she didn’t know me.”
“A minor detail. She was missing out, too.” His grandmother would have loved Kelley.
“Also, I was only twelve when she died.”
“Well, I don’t see why that would have been a problem,” he teased. “You’re an entrepreneur at heart, and I’m sure you were born that way. I doubt I could have kept the doors open here if I hadn’t had the good sense to hire you.”
Kelley laughed louder, then covered her mouth, blushing. “I love you, Jeremy, but—no offense—I think you’re right.”
“I know,” he said, not minding a bit. It was true. And besides, she was back to bubbly instead of that uncharacteristically discouraged version of herself that had worried him. “No offense taken. I just don’t love it like you do, Kelley.”
“Even though it was your grandma’s?” she asked, sounding genuinely surprised.
“Well, of course I love the memories.” Jeremy had grown up in the bookstore, and his grandmother had truly been the best parent a boy could ever ask for.
“And the books,” Kelley added, grinning.
“Some of them,” he agreed, giving the Amish thing on the counter a disgusted look. He loved romance in general, but there were always more books to choose from than time to read, so he had to apply some basic triage-style criteria. If an author was going to fade to black, the book was by definition yawn-worthy, as far as he was concerned. “But honestly, I’d rather be…”
In Seattle.
Not stuck here every day.
Writing my own love stories.
Living one.
“What?” Kelley asked. “I know you’ve never really liked the business side of the bookstore, but I still thought you loved it here.”
“Well, I’d really call it more of a habit than love. Also, you know, a roof over my head. Not to sound ungrateful, but seriously, Kelley, owning a business is a lot of work. Are you sure it’s what you want to do?”
“Yes,” she said decisively.
Well, fine. The girl had always known her own mind, and like they said, different strokes.
“Okay,” Jeremy said, reaching for his inner J2oh. “Then let’s find a way to make it happen. Like Nick says, obstacles don’t have to stop you. Over, under, around, or through.”
She lit up. “What can we do?”
“Um.”
Hm. Well, right, they would still need to figure that part out, wouldn’t they. So… oh!
J2oh really was badass, because Jeremy had just had An Idea.
He grinned, almost spilling it, but then thought better of it. Best not to get Kelley’s hopes up until he knew whether it might work.
“I’m going to start by talking to Gavin, and I’ll take you up on handling the bills while I’m at it,” he said, pushing the stack of mail back toward her.
“Okay,” she said, sounding hopeful. She thumbed through the envelopes, pulling one out and handing it back to him. “This one’s not a bill, though.”
He plucked it out of her hand, mentally reviewing his plan as he headed for the door. Gavin mostly worked from home these days, but Jeremy would check in at the bakery just in case he was in. And to grab a mocha. And if Gavin wasn’t there, Jeremy would call him.
A little thrill of excitement shot through him, because he really thought this might work.
Gavin was good at business things, so if he thought so too…
Jeremy pushed open the door of Delicious. Gavin had added even more hanging flower baskets, and the entire front of the bakery was bursting with colorful blooms. They looked healthy and vibrant and gorgeous, as if they would never die. He was definitely going to get a few for the front of Sir Reads-a-lot.
He glanced down at the envelope Kelley had handed him as the little bell above the door tinkled, announcing his arrival.
“Hey, Jeremy,” Brandon greeted him.
The cheerful teen had worked for Gavin from the time the bakery had opened until he’d graduated high school the year before, and Gav had been thrilled to have him back temporarily, now that he was home from college for the summer.
“Mocha?” Brandon asked. “Cupcake? Scone? Jeremy, are you going to come inside? You’re letting all the air conditioning out.”
Jeremy looked up, the boy’s words making him realize that he’d frozen in the doorway. “Sure,” he said. “Thanks.”
Brandon laughed. “Dude, which one? All of them?”
“Just a mocha,” Jeremy said, sliding into a seat at one of the cute little bistro tables.
Brandon said something else, but it came out sounding like the voice of Charlie Brown’s teacher. Or maybe that was just a side effect of temporary-deafness-caused-by-extreme-nervousness disorder. Jeremy tapped the envelope from the literary agent against his palm, wondering if he
should wait to open it until he FaceTimed with Nick later. Because, for real, when he opened it he was either going to scream like a little girl, or cry like one, and he wasn’t quite sure if that would be best handled alone, or with someone to talk him down afterward.
“Here you go,” Brandon said, sliding a to-go cup onto the table in front of him. “What’s that?”
Jeremy stopped tapping. Who was he kidding? Patience was not in his nature. He’d just have to tell Nick about it later and trust in chocolate as a cure-all for whatever was inside.
“Let’s find out,” he said to Brandon, tearing open the envelope.
Oh.
Oh.
17
Nick
Nick was chatting with the girl who worked the front desk at the gym when Heather arrived to drop off Ava. He had his back to the gym entrance, so didn’t realize they’d come in until Ava flung her arms around his waist in an enthusiastic hug, knocking him off balance.
“Hey, Sprout,” he said, grinning down at her.
“Hi, Daddy,” she said, adding an extra squeeze before she let go. “I brought my swimsuit. Is Grandma coming with us to Wild Waves tomorrow? Did you see my new backpack? Mommy picked it out, but I like it anyway. Are we having lasagna for dinner? Did Mommy send you the picture of me doing a cartwheel? Can I have a Clif bar?”
“No, yes, probably, yes, and yes.”
“Thank you,” she squealed happily, dropping the backpack covered in rainbow-colored DNA helixes at his feet and darting across the room to the nutrition counter. Craig, the guy working there today, would know to add Ava’s protein bar to the running account that Nick settled every week.
The Delicious Series: The First Volume Page 64
