by Willa Okati
Ford sighed. “True.”
“So weird,” Kayla mused, giving Ford a once-over. “The body of a bear, and I don’t mean teddy, and the heart of a true romantic. Life is funny.” She shook her head. “Okay, moving on. He would be out of your league if you didn’t have a ridiculously awesome ‘in’ with luck.”
Ford brightened. He did have that going for him, no two ways about it, and the signs had never steered him wrong. “And?”
There, Kayla hesitated and nibbled her lip. “I think he’s kind of… Not broken, at least not in a way that can’t be fixed, but… somewhere inside him, he’s damaged.” She patted the patch of breast roughly over her heart. “Not too far from the surface. I could see it in his eyes.”
Ford tipped his head to a side, weirdly fascinated. “Have you been holding out on me?”
Kayla’s temporarily somber mood broke. She swatted at Ford. “No! Idiot.”
“Then how are you seeing this, and I’m not?”
“Easy.” There came the fingers again. “One? I know I’m not in the running, so I’m using my mental energy to observe instead of panting blindly over him. Two? I learn fast. And three? I’m a girl. Ever hear of feminine intuition?”
She had him there. Ford laughed. “Fair enough. Got any other pearls of wisdom for me?”
“Just one.” Kayla sighed. She hugged Ford’s arm in lieu of his shoulders. To reach those, she’d have needed a stepladder. Hmm. Gavin wasn’t all that tall. Only a handful of inches on Kayla. What would that make him? Five-nine?
Ford had overcome greater obstacles.
“Pay attention,” Kayla scolded.
Ford attempted to look winsome and properly respectful.
Kayla rolled her eyes and tried not to giggle. “I’m being serious here. Love at first sight or not, he’s not going to be easy to win over.”
Ford couldn’t disagree with her there, but neither could he fight this feeling. He took a step back and tilted his head as far as it would go to stare down the building. “That’s okay. No one ever claimed love was easy.”
Kayla sniffled, her eyes suspiciously glossy. “You giant goofball. Here.” She dug in her pocket for a Flowers Fast! card. “You’re going to need this. Also, if you don’t keep me in the loop on how this goes, I’ll hunt you down and string you up by your thumbs.”
“I don’t doubt you could do it too. But I’d keep in touch anyway.” Ford offered Kayla his hand. “Friends?”
Kayla beamed at him. So maybe she wasn’t Gavin. All in all, Ford figured coming away from this with a new friend was a win. A mission, a partner in crime, and a prince in an ivory tower all ready for rescuing.
Now all he needed was a plan, and when Ford caught sight of a crumpled-up flyer rolling across the street, he thought he knew exactly where to start.
Chapter Two
There were certain things Gavin often found hard to get out of his head. A knock on the door in the middle of the night that’d sent him racing out of bed only to find his neighbor’s boyfriend had come home sloshed drunk and hammering at the wrong apartment. The state of the stock market. Bad poetry.
Therefore, being unable to pry a certain bright-eyed, blinding-smiled bike messenger out of his thoughts for longer than five seconds made Gavin… “Irritated” might not be the right word. Testy. On edge. Gavin paused in his data entry to weigh and measure each choice, seeing which one fit best.
Ford…
Kind. Intensely sensual. Ford, who Gavin had promptly shown his worst side to, then fled from.
Gavin groaned. No, stop. It’s for the best. A can of worms sealed before any could escape.
If he doubted that, even for a second, all Gavin had to do was look at the glossy, framed photo-shoot image he kept tucked in a desk drawer. Donny. His ex-fiancé. He could have been Ford’s twin in looks if not in size, and definitely in madcap enthusiasm and lack of sense. And, most importantly, in his belief in luck. Donny took every crazy chance there was and almost always came out on top.
No matter who he squashed by climbing over them.
Gavin weighed the photo in his hands, stubbornly refusing to hide it away again yet. He needed a timely reminder of the man who’d ditched him at the altar and vanished into the world of traveling theater. Needed to remember exactly why he didn’t let his heart get tangled up. Ever.
And why he was not a believer. In anything.
As his luck generally ran, the pause in Gavin’s work coincided perfectly with the arrival of the person he least wanted to see. He swiveled his chair around to face down Roger, a fellow archivist and professional pain in the ass. The one upside to Roger’s showing his face was that it at least pushed Ford out of center mental stage to allow room for annoyance to surge in as a replacement.
Roger. When would he give it up? He and Gavin had been at loggerheads since they’d been hired and offered a choice of work spaces.
Gavin hadn’t wanted the corner office with its prominence and proximity to the main drag. He’d seen this poky little nook, barely larger than a remodeled janitor’s closet, found the old smokers’ terrace mere yards away, down a deliberately bleak service hallway, and settled in with a sigh of satisfaction.
Roger, on the other hand, was the sort of man who viewed Gavin’s willing surrender of prime real estate with great suspicion and lived in anticipation of the day when Gavin “paid him back for winning.” Idiot.
“I’m busy,” Gavin said when it became apparent Roger had no other plans except lounging in the doorway and smirking at him all day long. Short and terse worked well enough for talks with this one. “Need something?”
“Who, me? Not really, no. Just passing the time of day.”
“Pass it somewhere else.”
“That’d mean gossiping about you behind your back, and I would never do such a thing.”
“Uh-huh.” Gavin tapped a pen against the edge of his desk. “Get on with it.”
Roger rubbed his thumbs together, producing a strange and nerve-rasping scraping sound. “Word’s gotten around that you had quite the interesting encounter with a bike messenger last week.”
Oh honestly. “No one’s got anything better to talk about?”
Roger struck a new lounging pose, though Gavin would not have thought it possible to appear any more indolent. “They do. Just not anything that interests me as much. What’s the scoop, Gavin? Someone new in your life?” He cocked an eyebrow at Donny’s picture. “Interesting.”
“Not your business.” Gavin swiveled his chair to turn his back on Roger. “Excuse me.”
Roger stood up straight at last and straightened his cuffs, pulling them fussily neat. “If that’s how you want to play it, then suit yourself. But if you really and truly don’t give a damn about that giant ox of a black-haired, blue-eyed, obnoxiously cheerful bull in a china shop thundering about downstairs reading every directory sign he can come across, probably looking for your office, then be my guest.”
Gavin thought they called this feeling “thunderstruck.” He shook his head. Ford had come back? That didn’t track. Men like him, as whimsical and as easy to whirl away as a leaf on the wind -- men like Donny -- didn’t keep their promises.
Roger emitted waves of smug satisfaction. “He looked like the stubborn type. I’ll bet he flounders his way in here any minute if he’s bright enough not to trip over his own feet and knock himself out.”
Indignation flared inside Gavin. Excuse me? Ford might be overenthusiastic and, yes, a little too large for workaday life, but how did that equal stupid?
Roger shoved his way into Gavin’s personal space and flicked Donny’s picture with finger and thumb, knocking it flat on its back. Donny, eager and handsome, black-haired and blue-eyed, grinned cheekily up at them. “Would you look at that? Uncanny, the resemblance between your old flame and your new torch. Funny how history repeats itself.”
If Roger hadn’t chosen those exact words, Gavin might have… He didn’t know. One could never know what might have been. If that
were possible, he’d have saved himself a hell of a lot of heartbreak in the past.
Gavin dropped the picture back into its drawer and shut said drawer firmly. “Get. Out.”
“Not that I can fathom what either of them saw in you,” Roger said, flicking imaginary lint off his shirt. He clicked his tongue at Donny’s picture. “Such a resemblance.”
Gavin didn’t think he could be blamed for slamming the door of his office in Roger’s face. And if he could, he didn’t care.
* * *
When Gavin needed a moment to himself at work, there was only one place to go. Outside. Gavin closed his eyes and breathed deeply of the cool, clean air that washed over him when he pulled open the terrace door. There. He could breathe again. Peace. Quiet. Solitude.
Or so he thought. When he opened his eyes, surprise loosened his tongue. “Ford?”
Ford grinned brightly at him, without a care in the world. “I knew I’d find you here.”
“Didn’t I find you?” Gavin edged away from the door, quite certain it wasn’t wise to move forward, but somehow sure there was no turning back now. He didn’t like that feeling.
“How about we just say we found each other?”
Be damned if that smile of his wasn’t as infectious as it was broad, tempting Gavin’s lips into quirking up.
“You have an amazing smile. Did you know that?” Ford asked. “Hey, no, don’t blush. Here.” With a grace and delicacy of touch that surprised Gavin, Ford lifted a paper cup from a tray Gavin hadn’t noticed and coaxed him toward it. “C’mon, take this and enjoy it while it’s hot.”
“What is it?” Gavin asked, then immediately blushed and wanted to kick himself smartly in the ass. A paper cup, sloshing liquid that Ford licked off the back of his hand. “Is this tea?”
“I asked you out for a cup the last time we met, remember?”
“You remembered that?”
“It was the highlight of my week.”
“I turned you down.” Nothing about this man made sense. So why wasn’t Gavin already back in his office? He didn’t understand.
“Still, it was the day I met you. I’ll always remember that.” Despite the rapid-fire nature of his chattering, Ford sat stiller than Gavin would have thought possible, and with more patience too. Letting Gavin take his time approaching, yet somehow, Gavin could tell, absolutely confident it’d happen.
Uneasy, Gavin came only close enough to take the cup and breathed in.
“Spicy,” he said, surprised.
“Isn’t it?” Ford smacked his lips, visibly savoring the cinnamon and nutmeg. “I love it. I had no idea what’s good, so I figured maybe something a little fun, you know? I’m really not a tea person.”
“Like you need the caffeine,” Gavin said. Oh God. He buried his reaction in a cautious sip, amazed at the rich burst of flavor. “Chai?”
Ford snapped his fingers. “That’s what the café woman called it.”
“Barista.”
Ford tilted his head to one side. “I thought they were called coffee bartenders.”
Gavin stifled a laugh, then saw the twinkle in Ford’s eye that told him that’d been Ford’s intention all along. “Baristas,” he repeated, still quiet, but the word slipped out as smoothly as the creamy chai went down his throat. “It’s good.”
“Well done, me.” Ford slurped his tea rather than sipping, but Gavin knew him well enough already to be sure Ford did nothing without absolute gusto unless he was careful to consciously rein it in. Quaff and guffaw, afraid of nothing.
Just like Donny. Damn it. Anything Gavin might have wanted to say dried up.
And he did. Want to say something. At least thank you or a quiet but firm thank you, but this isn’t a good idea. That’d be the smartest choice.
Gavin had an odd feeling that the smart thing to do didn’t often come to pass around Ford. The man had a way of making him crazy.
He cleared his throat, coughed, and tried to speak. “You… um. You d-don’t --”
Ford turned his face toward Gavin and waited. Gavin’s ears burned hot when, under the pressure, all he could come out with was a repeated d-d-d-d sound. God damn it. Any second now Ford would helpfully try to fill in the word for him. No one could leave well enough alone. That’d be Ford’s style. Donny’s too. Men like them had to fill in every single blank.
Only… Ford didn’t. He laced his fingers loosely together around his cup and waited. The only help he tried to offer was a deep breath in and a kind word. “Hey. Hey, it’s all right. Don’t stress. I’m not going anywhere.”
Gavin would just bet he wasn’t. Which reminded him…
“How did you…?” The words spilled out. Gavin swallowed. Don’t. Stop. Now. “How did you find me?” he enunciated, shoulders sagging with relief when he’d gotten it all out. Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous for a man of nearly thirty to have this much trouble.
Much better to be alone for no more reason than this. Yet somehow, and all of a sudden, that seemed oddly cold. Lonely.
Ford grinned at Gavin. “I could tell you, but you wouldn’t believe me.”
I wouldn’t… What? Oh. Gavin rolled his eyes. “Signs.”
“See? Disbelief.” Ford bumped knees with Gavin, still warm, totally comfortable with being scoffed at. “Granted, today it was mostly street signs. I had a delivery to make, for starters.” He winked at Gavin.
“And then?” Gavin asked. How odd. The pressure in his throat seemed to be easing, as did the stiffness in his tongue. That never happened. What was Ford, some kind of wizard?
“And then,” Ford went on, his cup drained, “then that’s where the hocus-pocus came in.” He made quote fingers at Gavin, any sting in the teasing nullified by the twinkle in his eyes.
Gavin studied Ford, more confused still. Such a strange dichotomy of a man. Once you got past that mix of Viking and roguish clown, there was a sort of gentle affection beneath. No, that wasn’t right. Gavin didn’t know the right word for it. Something that reminded him of a hound dog not yet finished growing, but absolutely loyal and utterly loving.
The half-finished cup of chai nearly slipped from his fingers. Ford caught it. “Easy there.”
Gavin shook his head and took himself out of reach. “Hocus. Explain.”
Ford stretched his legs out in front of him and crossed them at the ankle. “Your office isn’t listed on any directories. Not a problem. I looked around for a little of this, a little of that, and in the end I went with green.”
He looked so proud of himself that Gavin had to ask. “Green?”
“Absolutely! Green for go. Like your sweater last week.” Ford’s reach proved longer than Gavin might have thought, making it no strain at all to be too close. He tweaked a corner of the black sweater Gavin had worn today. “Mmm, soft.” Ford actually lifted the hem to rub it against his cheek, making Gavin want to revise his opinion of the inner Ford to that of an adolescent bruin wallowing in honey.
Gavin tugged the sweater out of Ford’s grip. “Green,” he repeated, hoping the direct translation of explain, please came through.
“It’d be easier if I could show you.”
Gavin shook his head.
Ford accepted that easily enough. “Let’s see. First, there was a green light in a display on the first floor. Illumination on some necklaces, I think? Kayla would like those.”
“Kayla?” Why was Gavin creeping closer, step-by-step? Was it the warmth of Ford that drew him? Moths to flame, he supposed.
Sitting beside Ford couldn’t hurt. If all he did was sit.
Ford made room for him without a fuss. Gavin could almost wonder if he’d really noticed what he was doing. “The blonde I was with yesterday.”
“Your girlfriend?”
“What? No, no.” Ford sat up straight. Inadvertently or not, the move brought his and Gavin’s legs into contact, pressed together. Gavin inhaled sharply. The solidness of Ford’s muscles, encased in jeans instead of bike shorts this time, almost burned him before the
heat eased to a tingling warmth.
Ford propped his chin on Gavin’s shoulder. In Gavin’s experience, no one ever got that close and cozy unless their next move was to try and get in his pants, and mostly then because they thought a socially incompetent stutterer would make for an easy lay. That he’d roll over for a fuck out of gratitude at being noticed.
Gavin tensed, but it didn’t happen. The most he got out of Ford was a light bump of their heads together and Ford’s amused murmur in his ear. “Kayla -- she’s a she. And me -- I have a weakness for sexy geeks who blush like early strawberries and wear glasses that slide down their noses. Hey, hey, don’t.” He pulled Gavin’s hand away from his face and didn’t let go. “Should I take it easier on the compliments?”
Thank God. Relieved, Gavin nodded.
Ford brushed it aside, sitting back seemingly without any insult taken. “We’re all who we are,” he said easily. “So! Green.”
It took Gavin a second to catch up. When he did, he nodded, mirroring Ford’s interest and finding it came easier to him than usual. Almost… naturally. So strange.
“The green-light necklaces were arranged on a display stand in the first case I saw, angled to the left. That led to a staircase.”
Gavin knew the one Ford meant, and it wasn’t a staircase intended for public use. In fact, it had a giant, sternly worded sign about authorized personnel only being allowed behind it. He raised one eyebrow at Ford, who only grinned cheekily and went on.
“Up the staircase. On the second-floor landing, I see a sign halfway up the next flight. Painted in green.”
Gavin hid his struggle between amusement and uneasiness in a sip of chai. Come on, Ford. His triumphant list was made up of coincidences, nothing more.
Yet here he is, something inside Gavin whispered to him. He found you.
“And where did that green lead me? Up to floor three, where I kind of got lost for a few minutes, but then there was a troop of Girl Scouts selling cookies. God, I love Thin Mints. I bought a box. We can share if you like.” Ford paused. “Where was I?”
