Aaron smiled, a sweet, relieved upward twist to his lips that did sad, sad things to Nick’s already frayed attention. How could he focus on anything right now beyond the fact Katy Perry had nothing on him? She may have kissed a girl, but he touched Aaron Hampton. And boy, did he like it.
“We probably haven’t gotten this far in our conversations, but I’m a lawyer. Transactional law, mainly.”
Aaron shifted his brilliantly blue eyes to meet Nick’s, as if checking to see if his revelation made any difference. Nick withheld judgment pending a later date with Wikipedia.
“Pretty young, aren’t you?” Nick asked.
The pink tips to Aaron’s ears owed nothing to the winter weather. “I’m twenty-six.”
Nick held back a chuckle at Aaron’s defensive tone. Twenty-six? A good age. Old enough to have gained some maturity, but not enough of a gap between them for Nick’s dad to offer him his patented Frowny Face of Disapproval.
Oblivious to Nick’s inner math, Aaron rambled on. “This is my first year working for the firm, and I enjoy the challenge. The trouble is I tend to focus on an issue to the exclusion of everything else.”
Nick yearned to offer all kinds of ways he would appreciate that laser-sharp single-mindedness turned in his direction, but he held off his suggestions. This wasn’t about him right now, damn it. “Okay.”
“My assistant is terrific.” Aaron rubbed his hand against his beard, and Nick followed the motion with fixed interest.
“I think she’s worked for the partners longer than I’ve been alive, but she knows her stuff.” Aaron’s expression shifted, somehow making him appear adorably bashful instead of calm and authoritative. Nick wanted to swallow his tongue.
“She’s always pointing out my age and how I’d be lost without her reminding me of everything. I had a terrible day last week, and I, well….”
“Let me guess,” Nick drawled, charmed despite himself. “You screwed yourself.”
Aaron’s shoulders slumped. “I really did. It’s only been a week, and I’m in so much trouble. I set up all these reminders on my phone, and they go off, but….”
“You get focused.”
“Exactly.” Aaron’s beaming smile held equal measures of relief at Nick’s understanding and despair. “Today’s her birthday. I set three separate reminders I didn’t notice until five minutes ago. I can’t go into the office without a gift for her. She’ll know.”
“You mean she’ll win.” Nick corrected over the repeated ho of the door. He turned his attention away from Aaron long enough to check if anyone might need help. Not that he planned on offering any. But, his job. Yeah.
“That too.” Even Aaron’s eyebrows shared his determination. Nick added a mental notation on his Aaron Hampton spreadsheet—sore loser.
“Aaron, I’m not sure you noticed this is a convenience store. I’m an overbooked college student wearing mismatched socks and no underwear because I haven’t had a chance to do laundry in weeks. You’d be better off going to the superstore down the street.” Nick jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the store’s general direction.
The pink flush on Aaron’s skin had crept down his neck at Nick’s blunt declaration, but he stayed resolute. “I need a gift that doesn’t look like it came from the superstore, otherwise she’ll know she’s right.”
“She is right.”
“This is no time for logic.” Aaron rubbed both his hands over his short hair, the increase in spikes making him resemble a well-dressed hedgehog.
Still adorable, but definitely a drama queen. Nick could work with that. “Hold on.”
Nick waved the lineup of customers to Aaron’s right and began scanning them through while he considered his options. Aaron was being totally ridiculous, but Nick wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. After clearing the immediate crowd, he came around the counter to Aaron’s side.
“Let’s see what we can do.” Nick held up his hand to hold off Aaron’s effusive thanks. “I’m not making any promises.”
Aaron nodded in solemn agreement while Nick surveyed the aisles. “I assume she drinks coffee?”
“Doesn’t everyone?” Aaron asked.
“You’d be surprised.” With Aaron trailing after him, Nick emptied a heavy wicker basket of bagels, briefly mourning the time it took him to set up the display in the first place. Basket in hand, he went around the rows and gathered up his supplies before the next rush of caffeine-deprived commuters could interrupt. Thank God for pay at the pump.
Within minutes he’d lined the bottom of the basket with a red-and-white checked dishcloth from the store’s blink-and-you-miss-it home-goods section. Next he added an assortment of tiny flavored creamer samples. He grabbed several of those cute mini bags of designer coffee blends, and in the middle, he nestled a stainless travel thermos/mug combo he’d been eyeing for the last month—even with his employee discount, it was hella pricey.
Aaron supervised, all wide-eyed and adorably—there was that word again—clueless until Nick handed him a selection of freshly baked cookies and brownies, because chocolate, Aaron, chocolate, from the display by the register. “Take the price tags off, without squishing them.”
Not one of Nick’s better ideas. Aaron then became wide-eyed, adorably clueless, and all thumbs while he fussed with the tiny squares of adhesive. Nick so deserved sainthood for not jumping him when Aaron poked the tiniest hint of pink tongue out of the corner of his mouth.
“Still needs a little something.” Nick tapped his thumb ring against his lower lip and thought. “How much cash you got on you?”
“Me?” Aaron pulled out his wallet. “A couple of hundred. Why?”
Nick choked at his easy reply. Must be nice. He opened his own wallet and removed the Starbucks gift card his brother gave him on his birthday. He hadn’t spent any of it yet, preferring to save the unexpected luxury for when class and life in general sucked and he needed the blissful respite of an emergency Frappuccino.
“I can’t take your card,” Aaron protested.
“Sure you can. It’s brand new.” Nick waggled the plastic rectangle in front of him. “Don’t worry, you’re paying me for it.”
Aaron seemed unconvinced, but Nick stood firm. Everyone needed access to emergency Frappuccinos. Seriously, the more time he spent with Aaron, the more sympathy he had for his assistant. Ancient warhorse or no, if she had the will to resist those pleading eyes, she was made of stronger stuff than Nick.
Even with the hassle of scanning customer sales and helping Aaron peel off labels, it didn’t take long for Nick to get everything tweaked to his satisfaction. For a final touch, Nick took the giant clear plastic bag covering the shipment of hot dog buns and enclosed the basket and contents before tying the ends with some red and green ribbon Amanda had used to decorate the candy aisle endcaps. He stepped back and surveyed his handiwork.
Not too frickin’ shabby.
“You’re fantastic,” Aaron breathed by his side.
“Wait till I ring all this up,” Nick warned, his stomach fluttering with tiny butterflies at Aaron’s praise. “You’d have spent way less somewhere else.”
“I don’t care.” Aaron shook his head. “She’ll love it.”
“Sure. Nothing says special like a basket of goodies from the convenience store.” Nick snorted and gathered up the discarded price tags to scan them.
“It’s special because of you.”
Nick froze, the handheld scanner beeping when it timed out without input. How the hell was he supposed to respond to that? Before he stammered out something stupid, Aaron pushed on.
“I can’t thank you enough.” Aaron’s rueful smile tugged at Nick almost as much as his sweet one. So unfair. “I owe you.”
Nick stared at Aaron’s satiny-looking beard and mustache. Both of which totally should become intimately acquainted with Nick’s inner thighs. But he manfully kept from offering to take Aaron’s appreciation in trade.
“I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“You’re welcome.” Nick coughed and wiped the back of his hand against his desperately dry lips. Aaron didn’t flinch at the final total. He paid with a credit card and then held out two fifties.
Nick pocketed the cash. “You’ll have to tell me if she liked it.”
“You bet.” Aaron picked up the basket and pushed the door open. He waved goodbye to Nick like the world’s biggest goober, leaving Nick staring at the ice-frosted glass when the door shut.
How was this his life?
III
“IS THAT a hooker in the employee-only bathroom?”
Nick refused to glance up from the entertainment magazine spread open on the checkout counter. Instead he turned the page to his favorite “Two-Stars/One-Style” article.
“I’m talking to you, Nick.” A loud snap of gum punctuated the sentence.
The sharp tap of boots against his freshly mopped floor—she’d better not leave scuff marks—echoed through the chip aisle and announced the ominous progress of their owner to the front of the store. Accepting the inevitable, Nick answered in a swift monotone. “Hi, Amanda. How are you, Amanda?”
“Like you care.” Another crack of gum. “I repeat. Why is there a hooker in the employee-only bathroom?”
Nick slouched closer to the counter and changed the cross of his ankles, careful not to step on his untied shoelace. He had two options. Both of the new and upcoming Starlets He Didn’t Recognize smiling up from the magazine pages wore the canary yellow frock in a pleasing manner, but if Nick really had to choose, then Unrecognizable Starlet Number One did a much better job accessorizing.
Besides, he didn’t need to look up. Amanda coming in alone fifteen minutes before the start of her shift meant she wanted to vent. Nick turned the page to study the next set of starlets. Ouch, no contest here. Baby needed a stylist big-time.
“What part of ‘employee-only restroom’ don’t you get?”
Nick figured the entire conversation hit a nine or ten on his ma’s rhetorical question scale and kept his mouth clamped shut.
“Isn’t it enough I share the restroom with a bunch of Neanderthals who refuse to put the toilet seat down? Now I have to sterilize the facilities before I use them.”
Nick gave up on his quality tabloid time to face his disgruntled store manager. “Not everyone leaves the seat up. I’m pretty sure Sam, the afternoon part-timer, pees in the sink.”
An icy cone of silence descended over the store, giving the outside temperatures a run for their money. Both Nick and Amanda pretended not to watch the thin young woman who had caused the ruckus in the first place. She clomped past the pair in her cork wedgies and hurried out the exit. Didn’t even bother giving Nick a wave goodbye.
“There’s a mental image I could have done without.” Amanda came behind the counter and flopped down on the stool by the register. She put her boots up on one of the lower shelves and settled back with a groan, her sharp edges replaced with rumpled tiredness.
“Bad night?” Nick went for the obvious.
“The worst.” She pushed her dark curls off her face and rubbed her forehead. “I had dinner with Blaine’s mother.”
“Ouch.” Nick winced. Been there, hated that. “Your hair looks great,” he offered.
“Yeah?” Amanda’s expression lightened. “Thanks. But you don’t have to butter me up, I already let you and Blaine switch shifts.”
“My appreciation is good for at least a few more compliments.” Nick meant every word. “Thanks again.”
“Do you have any plans for the weekend?”
Nick squinted at Amanda with barely hidden suspicion at the quick subject change. He wrapped up his laptop cords and tossed them into his backpack. “Why? What’s up?” He had worked a long shift, and even his man bun was drooping.
He scanned the store, trying to find anything he’d forgot, but everything seemed prepped and ready. He did have plans tonight. Ones that didn’t include classwork or work work for a change. “I get one night off a week, Amanda. I’m not pulling a double shift.”
“No, God.” Amanda flicked her swath of hair back over her shoulder. She hauled out her supply folder and began cutting sheets of colored paper into snowflakes destined to decorate the front window. “You’re Blaine’s friend. I thought it’d be nice for us all to spend time together.”
Nothing ominous there. “Would it?”
“Well, duh.”
The mature statement was accompanied by a lip curl Nick’s little sister would be proud of. Nick sidestepped a customer and grabbed a cup before edging over to the soda dispenser.
He savored the crisp bite of carbonation and waited for her to finish scanning a phone charger and three donuts.
Funny how Amanda had no qualms about ignoring her customers in favor of continuing their conversation. Must be a managerial privilege.
“It only makes sense since we’re going to be around each other more.”
Confusion wasn’t Nick’s best look, and he knew it. He waved for her to go on, the next guy in line swinging his head between the two of them like he was at a tennis match instead of buying a carton of cigarettes and a so-called gentleman’s magazine. Ewh. At 8:14 in the morning? No wonder Amanda ignored him.
“Come on, Nick.” Amanda shoved the magazine into a plastic bag with enough force to bend back the cover page. Nick admired the way her steely glare dared the guy to protest. “Didn’t Blaine tell you we moved in together?”
Whoa. Nick scrabbled for his soda with numb fingers before giving up and setting it by the rack of lids. He was not mopping the floors again. “What? No. When?”
She handed off the receipt and turned her full attention toward Nick. “Last week. I swear he said he told you.”
Instead of leaving, the customer shuffled aside and took his time putting his credit card away. Like Nick didn’t notice the way the guy’s eyes still bounced back and forth between the two of them. “Hey, buddy. Take a picture, why don’t you?” Nick’s bark sent the guy shooting out the door. What a creeper.
Amanda glanced down at her nails, then at Nick. Her face filled with enough sincerity to make Nick take a step back, suddenly very uncomfortable.
“I also wanted to thank you. Being able to spend more time with Blaine helped me realize what a terrific guy he is.”
Nick couldn’t come up with a response to that statement. At least, not one he should say in polite company. Maybe Blaine had said something, but Nick’s brain had been a fog of class, study, worrying where he was going to get the money for Christmas gifts this year, and Aaron. Okay, mainly money. And Aaron. Or, truthfully, more Aaron than anything else.
It wasn’t his fault. After the gift basket incident, Aaron treated him like they were best friends, stopping in even earlier to chat and bringing Nick books he thought Nick might enjoy reading.
Nick frowned. Choosing between slogging through his homework or diving into Aaron’s latest offering was hard. His classwork didn’t offer the gratification inherent in being a member of Aaron’s personal book club. Plus there was the added benefit of comparing their favorite serial killers, which wasn’t as weird as it sounded. Nick pushed his knot of hair higher off his neck. Fine. He’d been a trifle distracted. But this?
“Okay, well.” Nick searched for something more positive to say. Why was it so easy to talk with Aaron and such a pain with anyone else? “I’m happy for you two.”
Despite Nick’s conversational fumble, Amanda broke into a wide smile and leaned farther across the counter.
“Thanks, it means a lot to hear you say that.” She patted his arm and looked satisfied for a reason Nick couldn’t fathom. “You’ll have to come over for dinner sometime soon.”
“Sure,” Nick lied without hesitation. Bro code demanded he talk to Blaine before he agreed to anything. “Sounds good.” He grabbed his backpack, making it out the door in record time.
IV
SOME SLEEP and three awesome grilled cheese sandwiches he
lped Nick recover from his week and the unexpected news of Blaine and Amanda’s changed relationship. He rubbed a hand across his chest, his good mood evaporating like the frost from Aaron’s glasses when he came in from the cold.
Here Blaine and Amanda were turning whatever weird thing they had into a real… well, something. He, on the other hand was stuck pining after the hottest, nicest guy he’d ever met.
Soon, Nick promised the empty space inside his heart. His Intro to Human Behavior class kept harping on the carrot concept; maybe he should put it to use. Let him get through this term and graduate, and his reward might be he’d man up and ask Aaron out. When Nick had a job he could be proud of and a future. Aaron had so much going for him, though, and Nick was still getting started.
The worst Aaron might do was say no, right? Right. Then crush Nick’s tiny, stunted little heart into a million pieces. Nick shook his head. Enough, already. Tonight he planned to have fun and not think about Aaron Hampton even once.
Nick changed into his winter running gear. An old pair of sweatpants, two wicking T-shirts—one long-sleeved, one sleeveless—and an oversized hoodie left behind from a short-term ex. He took his laptop and books out of his backpack and threw in a change of clothes for after the race.
He didn’t have time to be a serious runner. Not like some of the people in his training group. But he liked to participate in the local events. Tonight was the 6th Annual Jingle Bell 5K Run and Walk, part of downtown’s WinterFest. He might fight the approaching holidays kicking and screaming, but he grudgingly accepted this as his own personal kickoff to winter.
Once a small, purely local event, the festival now included a parade, the municipal tree lighting, performances from both the high school and senior center choirs, and drew an assortment of craft sales from artisans across the state.
The city loved the publicity and closed a couple of blocks to vehicle traffic, leaving the roadway for pedestrians to wander in and out of the shops, doors propped open and heat blasting to lure in chilled consumers eager to find a deal and warm up with coffee or mulled cider and cast their vote for best decorations.
The Last Gift Page 2
