by Megan Derr
Shayne shoved up his sunglasses, eyes warm as they ran over him, fingers skating playfully over his torso. "Hello. Managed to get away from my piles of work early, thought I would surprise you here. I hope that's okay."
"Totally," Jordan replied. "Uh. This is my brother, Jayden. Jay, this is Shayne."
"Pleasure to meet you," Shayne said, holding out a hand. "Jordan talks about you a lot. Makes me jealous—my sister and I have never gotten along."
Jayden grinned and shook his hand. "Nice to finally meet you. Jordan is always so close-mouthed about his dates. It's like he thinks I'm going—oof! Hey!"
"Shut up," Jordan hissed. "I will murder you, slowly."
Scoffing, Jayden said, "You would not."
"No, but I will fill your dresser drawers with bergamot."
Jayden made a face. "Ugh, you're so mean. I'm getting ice cream, you want your usual?"
"Yep." Jayden ran off and Jordan leaned in to steal another kiss. "Thanks for coming. I hope we won't prove too obnoxious."
Shayne laughed and finished off his own popsicle, throwing the stick in a nearby trashcan. "I'm looking forward to it. I work so much these days, I can't remember the last time I went out just to have fun. Giving in to the impulse to talk to you was definitely the best decision I've made in a long time."
That deserved a kiss and Jordan gave it happily, winding his arms around Shayne and holding fast. Shayne chuckled against his mouth, nuzzled his cheek the way he always did. "So what's the usual?"
"Huh?" Jordan stared blankly and flushed when Shayne laughed gently. "Oh! Watermelon. They're awesome, sweet but just a little salty to make the sweet even better. This stand has the best popsicles in the area. Ice cream isn't bad, but I don't like ice cream in the summer."
Before Shayne could reply, Jayden returned bearing popsicles and dragged them out to the beach proper where almost a dozen men and women were already gathered at their usual spot, half of them attempting to start a volleyball game, the rest pulling drinks out of coolers at a couple of tables a short distance away.
"There had better be margaritas!" Jayden bellowed.
"Oh, my god, Jordan! What happened to your hair?" one of the women shrieked.
Jordan winced as that promptly brought half a dozen people to crowd around him, manhandling his respectable cut and expressing their dismay. Ugh, he hated so much attention and he really hated being reminded of his lost hair.
Shayne looked at him, brow furrowed. "What is strange about your hair?"
One of the girls—Ami—made a pained noise. Jordan fought not to roll his eyes, cause seriously? It wasn't her hair that had been lost forever. "Jordan used to have the most beautiful dreads. They were all the way down to his hips! What happened!" she wailed.
"Something spilled on them that I couldn't get out so I had to chop them off. Been working downtown ever since and so haven't had a chance to grow them out. Hey, food's arrived!" Thankfully, the distraction worked, and the crowd migrated to examine the new arrivals and the food they'd hauled in. Jordan sighed. "Sorry."
Kissing his temple, Shayne replied, "No need to be sorry. I am sad I didn't get to see your hair like that."
Jordan shrugged. "It's just as well they had to go. Cumberly is so rigid, I never would have gotten the job, and I need that job."
"Surely there are other magic firms, ones far less rigid and stressful, that would love to have you," Shayne said, mouth pulling down in a frown. "Have you looked elsewhere?"
"They don't pay as well, and it's a big firm," Jordan said, fishing out his phone. "They've never allowed hedge witches before, and while I really really wish I did less traveling, I can't beat the experience and connections and, like I said, the money. It's nice not to have to worry about that for once in my life." He hesitated, phone forgotten, then shrugged again and said, "Our parents died on one of their hiking trips when I was eleven, Jayden was twelve. My aunt became our legal guardian, but she lives a few hours away. She had her own family and life and problems and not enough time or money to take care of two additional kids. She mostly left us here to be raised by folks in the neighborhood. The house was paid off long ago by my parents, and we used insurance money for years … but it didn't last long and it's always been the two of us. It's nice to have a job that puts some of our worries away, you know?"
Shayne brushed one of those whisper-soft, utterly devastating kisses across his mouth. "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to turn this all serious."
"That was all me," Jordan said, shoving the unhappy memories aside and finally pulling up the photos on his phone. "Here, me and my ridiculous hair."
Shayne was quiet a moment, then said, "Ridiculous is not the word I would use. Beautiful comes to mind. You're always that, of course, but I can see why everyone is sad your hair is gone."
Jordan flushed hot, staring hard at his popsicle as he muttered, "It's not that big a deal." He flushed hotter still when Shayne nuzzled against him, and then tilted his faced up to steal a proper kiss. Jordan jerked away when his jerk brother and several henchmen whistled at them. "I will feed you to the sharks!" he bellowed.
"I'll call that bluff!" Jayden called back cheerfully—right before getting brained with a volley ball and toppling to the sand with a yelp.
"Ha," Jordan said and took Shayne's hand to lead him over to the coolers. "Want something to drink? I think they put the whole store in here."
"Whatever beer you find first."
"Blech." Jordan fished out a beer and handed it over, then dug out something atrociously fruity and sweet. "Mango, pineapple, strawberry, and rum. That sounds promising."
Shayne laughed. "If you say so. Are you playing volleyball?"
"I have a strict policy as regards to sports: people who try to make me play them will be made to suffer."
Laughing again, Shayne took a pull on his beer. "Want to go for a walk, then?"
"Does walk mean walk or find somewhere to make out?" Jordan asked, throwing away what little remained of his rapidly-melting popsicle, chasing the salty-sweet watermelon with a swallow of his sticky-sweet drink.
Shayne tangled their hands together again, and Jordan didn't care how lame it was to think that Shayne's smile right then was hotter than the sun—his brain was overheated. "Some of the first, but mostly the latter. Not to snub your friends."
"They're my brother's friends, really," Jordan said and led him away. "If we walk south we'll get away from the tourists, to where it's nice and quiet."
"Good," Shayne murmured, and tugged him close for a long, filthy kiss that had Jordan dragging him desperately away from the taunts and catcalls and vowing revenge on every last one of the brats.
*~*~*
Jordan scrubbed at his eyes while he waited for his checked luggage, wishing exhaustion would stop making them water so much. Goddess, he was glad to be home. If only it weren't ten o'clock at night and wouldn't take him another hour at least to bus it home.
"Hey," came a soft, warm familiar voice right before a gentle touch landed on the small of his back and urged him to turn around. Jordan made a soft noise of surprise, but it was lost in the folds of Shayne's shirt as Jordan attempted to burrow in to him. Fingers combed through his hair, and a quick kiss was dropped on top of his head. "You look exhausted."
Jordan huffed a quiet, tired laugh and finally looked up. "It's been a long week, and it ended with a client calling me a 'lazy, good for nothing fuck-up,' quote, and my boss giving me a verbal warning for being careless with clients."
Anger flickered across Shayne's face, but he only leaned down to kiss Jordan in that slow, melty way that made it impossible to think of anything else. "I'm glad you're home," Shayne said. "Let me get your bag." He lifted Jordan's hand and kissed his fingers, then slipped away to the carousel and hauled off Jordan's large, bright orange bag. "Ready to go?"
"Y-yeah," Jordan said, trailing along beside him, already feeling better than he had for days. "I keep thinking this job will get easier, and then it almost does,
but then something blows up and I feel like I have to start all over."
Shayne was quiet as they walked through the parking lot and loaded Jordan's things into his car, a well-cared for old Camaro that Jordan loved riding in because it smelled like Shayne and the seats were comfy and it was so very easy to doze off listening to Shayne's classical music.
He'd almost forgotten his own complaining until they were in the car and Shayne took his hand again. "I think you're too hard on yourself. Don't let the negative opinions of people who don't know your or appreciate you bring you down. If you went to any other firm in this city, you'd have a job in five minutes." Shayne kissed his hand again and then let it go to start the car and drive off. "Jayden went to go spend the weekend with Lee and sent me a very stern text about everything I was expected to do as regards you."
Jordan groaned and buried his face in his hands. "I don't want to know."
Shayne chuckled. "Probably not."
"I'm going to kill him," he muttered. Shayne laughed again and Jordan looked up. "How was your week?"
"Not bad," Shayne turned to smile at him briefly at a red light. "Tiresome, mostly. I got a call from my mother, who, of course, was not sober. That was followed by an angry call from a long-ago ex who thinks I am sabotaging his business." He sighed. "Then of course my sister called to scream about how I treat our mother. I am grateful that phones these days make it possible to assign different ringtones to different people because otherwise I am not certain I would have answered your call. I was so sick of even looking at my phone by the end."
"Ugh, no kidding," Jordan said. At the next red light leaned across the dash to turn Shayne's head and steal a quick kiss. "I'm sorry your week was so rotten."
"You're here, it's already better," Shayne said.
They drove in silence the rest of the way to Shayne's house, neither speaking again until they'd gotten his belongings inside and taken a couple of drinks into the sitting room that was almost more a library and which led straight to the greenroom Shayne had added to the back of the house. Jordan groaned as he flopped down on Shayne's sofa, which was evilly comfortable and made of butter-soft suede. He wanted to rub himself all over it.
At least, that was what he wanted to do until he was reminded that it was ten thousand times better to be pressed down into it by Shayne's body. He slid his fingers along worn-soft fabric and smooth skin as Shayne drove him crazy sucking up a mark on his throat. "You smell like lilacs," Shayne murmured and then shifted to lick Jordan's lips. "And mint, of course."
Jordan meant to make a jest about Shayne and his precious jasmine, but forgot it entirely in the heat and eagerness of Shayne's mouth. He whimpered softly and held fast, every frustration and misery draining away, easily replaced by the affection and comfort Shayne so easily gave.
Shayne drew back only when Jordan's stomach rumbled, rubbing their noses together before drawing back entirely. "I should feed you, and I'm sure you'd like to get some sleep."
"I was perfectly content with making out on the couch for an indefinite period of time," Jordan replied, but he let Shayne tug him to his feet and into the kitchen, where they put together some sandwiches before drifting back to the sitting room. On impulse, Jordan kept going, wandering into the green room that he had fallen in love with the first time he'd seen it. He loved it almost as much as he loved his shed.
Shayne had far more than he in the way of fresh herbs. It was easier for Jordan to work with dried most of the time. Working with Shayne's was a treat. There was an old chalkboard in one corner, filled with notes in Shayne's ridiculously elegant hand, and a couple of bookshelves filled to overflowing and with no discernible order to the books. They were mostly books on gardening, but scattered throughout were notebooks and spellbooks, the kind made by other witches and sold or traded around through forums and meet ups.
He finished his sandwich—what Jayden liked to call his salad on bread—and sat down on a stool to fuss with pots of basil, sage, and Canadian fairy grass. It was far more bitter than the Californian style he favored, but much better for wards against vampires and curses. He stripped down to his slacks, throwing his clothes in an empty box underneath the tables, humming absently as music started up.
Warm lips pressed a kiss to his shoulder then to the side of his throat, Shayne's hands sliding along his back in an easy caress before he moved away and settled on a stool a little further down to work on what looked like a half-finished tincture.
Jordan almost opened his mouth a few times to say that he wished he could always do this—come home to Shayne, work alongside him. But they hadn't even been together six weeks and were already moving so much faster than he ever had, and he didn't want to ruin it by wishing for things that made him sound exactly like a twenty-four year old idiot, even if he was.
So he just savored it, working on charms and talismans, humming along with the music until he looked up and caught Shayne's eye and somehow wound up on the greenroom floor naked and gasping and begging. He held Shayne tightly as he came, calling his name, and did not let go until Shayne drew him up to lead the way upstairs to shower and sleep.
*~*~*
Jordan hummed as he walked down the hall to his office, enjoying the smell of ginger-orange tea and thinking happily of the scones he'd grabbed that morning from his favorite bakery, an awesome vegan place that made the best everything. His evaluation had gone well, he'd gotten a raise, and once he finished his reports he had the afternoon and the whole weekend off. He was going out with his brother that night and then spending the rest of the weekend with Shayne.
His job was improving. He had the most amazing boyfriend ever. He had a great weekend lined up. Whatever problems were floating around were going to be gleefully ignored until Monday. Nothing was going to ruin his weekend.
He sat down at his desk, poured his tea into his waiting mug, fished out a scone, and pulled up the first of his reports. He was finished with breakfast and halfway through his second report when a knock at his office door made him jump. Hastily standing, he smiled in greeting. "Good morning, Mr. Vine."
"Jordan," Vine said, his smile missing all the warmth it had held that morning. "Want to go on a little field trip with me?"
"Of course," Jordan replied, pulling his blazer on, straightening his tie and spectacles and hair. "Where are we going?" He followed Vine out of the office and down the hall to the elevators.
"To take a closer look at a hedge witch who has been causing us trouble," Vine said. "He has coaxed two of my new hires to quit within days and is the reason Kevin left so abruptly, never mind all the others we've lost in the past nine-ten months. I've about had it with his poaching, and I am going to confront the bastard once and for all."
Jordan frowned. "I didn't know there was another hedge witch stealing ours. I thought the others left because they disliked the work." Not that he could blame them. They hadn't been looking for anything more than a regular paycheck. The excessive amount of travelling, the sneering from the elementals, the high-maintenance clients … It was a lot to put up with for just a paycheck. Jordan had daydreamed about quitting more than a few times himself, especially after the man who had completely flipped out and thrown his equipment out a fourth story window and thrown his drink on Jordan—and whatever the heck had been in it had left him with a nasty rash. He was really getting sick of people throwing stuff on him. "Are other firms having the same problem?"
"I have no idea, but I doubt it. This matter is entirely personal and I'm about to give the headhunter a piece of my mind."
"What do you mean?" Jordan flinched when Vine glared at him, even as he realized Vine wasn't mad at him, just the situation. "I mean—it's none of my business."
Vine grunted. "The man poaching our witches is an ex of mine, from many years ago. He was never satisfied with my reasons for ending the affair, and it would be just like him to so childishly cause my business harm now that we are hiring on hedge witches. What concerns me is who in the firm has been feeding him
information."
The displeased expression he leveled on Jordan then was definitely intended for him. "Me? You think I'm a spy?" Jordan gave a shaky laugh, raking his hands through his hair. "Sir, I don't want to lose this job. I'd never do anything to risk it or my reputation as a witch."
"We'll see," Vine replied and stalked out of the elevator as the doors slid open with a muted chime. He led the way out of the office building and then briskly walked three blocks south, then one and a half east until they were in a rundown little corner of downtown that featured a deli, a pawnshop, a tattoo parlor, and a couple of offices Jordan couldn't readily identify. There was also, tucked between the deli and an empty building, an office with an antique-looking sign above the door:
Radcliff Remedies
Something heavy dropped into Jordan's stomach. Radcliff. Not his Radcliff. Please, no. But as they stepped into the shop, a bell tinkling above the doorway, the distinct smell of Shayne's jasmine cologne wafted over him. "Ugh, that smell." Vine asked. "After all these years, he still insists on that horrible cologne of his."
"Night blooming Jasmine," Jordan said quietly. "It's powerful and versatile in herbal magic."
"Doesn't mean he needs to asphyxiate us with it," Vine muttered and started to say something else when a figure came through the open doorway behind an old wooden counter.
"How can—Vine." Shayne's gaze flicked to Jordan, emotions flickering across his face, but he turned his attention back to Vine. "I think I told you before to stay the hell away from me."
Vine strode up to the counter and for a moment, looked as though he was going to leap over it and smash Shayne's face in. "Fuck you, Radcliff. You're the one getting in my way and stealing my people. Don't think I didn't notice your sly little look now. Displeased I've found your mole?"
