And it definitely had come in handy today.
“Want some milk to go with them? Or maybe coffee?”
Blake had just bit into one of the cookies, and his eyes dropped closed as he moaned around his bite. He chewed slowly and savored it. Satisfaction raced through Derek’s blood, followed quickly by a hint of arousal. The latter he shoved forcefully away. He would not allow that to take hold. But the rest he could work with.
“You like them.” It wasn’t a question.
“God, yes. Holy shit, Derek. That’s probably the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”
Was Blake deliberately using double entendre or was Derek reading into it? Part of him wondered if Blake was doing it on purpose, either because he was that type of guy or because he was trying to get a rise out of Derek. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d experienced guys trying to make him uncomfortable by coming on to him, falsely assuming things about his sexuality. He’d learn what sort of man Blake was eventually, but in the meantime, he wasn’t going to react if he could help it.
Derek cleared his throat. “I’m glad. Something to drink?”
“Milk would be great, but I can get it.” Blake made to rise, but Derek had already returned with a glass from one of the shelves. He poured a large portion of milk and handed it over.
Blake took it with a blink. “Okay, really. How are you real? Is this because of you having the gene?”
Derek laughed and let all his amusement show. “Well, I wouldn’t know, would I? I’ve always had the gene, obviously, and I’ve always been this way. It’s who I am.”
Blake nodded, took another bite, and reined in his enjoyment of the cookie only a bit. He chased the bite with a swallow of milk and then gave a pleased little hum.
“Christ, that’s good,” he murmured, then turned his attention to Derek. “So. How’d you find out that you had the gene?”
Oh. Conversation was a very good thing. It was key to building their relationship, and Derek had a lot of questions. He was fine talking about himself first if that’s what got Blake talking too.
“I didn’t until after I applied to Requiem,” Derek began. He checked on the soup, gave it a stir, and lowered the flame on the burner until it was barely simmering. Then he walked to the table and sat. “That should be ready in about ten minutes or so. Anyway, yeah. No one in my family was quite as… care oriented as I was, so it never entered my mind. When my girlfriend in high school suggested it, I basically dismissed it. But when my college boyfriend said the same thing, I gave it another thought. I wanted to work for Requiem anyway because taking care of someone is my dream job, right? But they test for the marker when they do all the other initial blood work, and there it was.”
Blake just stared. “Girlfriend and boyfriend? What? Did you not know you were gay?”
Derek supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised that Blake latched on to that particular tidbit, but he was fine with discussing his sexuality. He’d been out since he was a child. “I’m bi, actually.” He squinted as a little bit of dread seeped in. “That’s not going to be a problem for you, is it?”
“No.” Blake looked a little angry, which was surprising. “What kind of question is that?”
“A valid one.” Derek gave a small shrug. “You wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve been dismissed and called a liar, told I had to be either gay and lying about it or straight. It gets old real fast, you know?”
“I bet. You don’t have to worry about me. Sexual orientation can be a thousand things. Whatever tickles your pickle.”
Derek snorted out an indelicate laugh. “Thanks. So what about you?”
“I’m gay,” Blake blurted.
Derek fought the laugh, knowing it wasn’t the time to let it escape. “Thanks. But I probably should have been clearer that I was jumping back to the earlier part. How did you find out you were a ghostwalker?”
“Do you do that a lot? Jump around in conversation?” There was a hint of embarrassment in Blake’s tone, and Derek felt bad for causing it. It hadn’t been his intent. Rather than draw attention to it, he moved on.
“Not really.” At least Derek didn’t think so. “So? Your story?”
Blake ate more cookie, and for a minute, Derek didn’t think he would answer. He didn’t have to, of course. But Derek was incredibly curious, and wasn’t that what people did when they were getting to know each other? Share their relevant histories? In this case it was a vital piece of information. Derek wouldn’t push, not if Blake didn’t want to share. Hopefully Blake would eventually feel comfortable enough to tell Derek his story.
“I drowned.”
Or maybe Blake just wanted to eat some cookie before he talked about it.
“What happened?” Derek asked encouragingly. He made sure to make eye contact with Blake before he stood and crossed the kitchen. The soup had to be just about ready. Derek got out two bowls and two spoons and found a ladle in one of the drawers.
“It’s stupid. I was seventeen. I was with some friends, and we were walking across the stone bridge.” Blake made a noise. “You’re not from here. I forgot. The river goes through the center of town, right? Most of the bridges across it are for cars, but there’s this one point in the town center where it narrows to only about twenty feet wide and there’s a foot bridge across it there.”
Derek nodded. He’d only been in Duncan Moor for a little over a week. And while the town was pretty small—only about fifteen thousand people—there was no way he’d been able to explore every part of it. In fact he’d flown into nearby Rochester, bought a car and essentials, and then drove the forty-five minutes to the out-of-the-way town. It was a far cry from Albuquerque, where he’d spent the past two years, or Sacramento, where he grew up. But he understood immediately why they’d chosen to put their branch office of Requiem in a small town, and the picturesque quaintness had grown on him quickly.
“So you were on the bridge and what?”
“We were horsing around, because we were those kinds of jerks, and we weren’t careful. At the time, the sides were only about three feet tall. Since then they’ve built iron fences so it’s impossible to fall off. But we were acting like seventeen-year-old boys, and I fell over. Hit my head on the way down to the river below, and I drowned.”
“Shit.”
Blake nodded. “Yeah. I mean, thankfully I was unconscious by the time I hit the water, so I didn’t have to experience the actual suffocating.” Blake shuddered. He fiddled with the last bit of his cookie and dunked it in the milk. “And thankfully my friends weren’t complete assholes. They ran for help. By the time they pulled me out of the water, I was dead.”
Derek couldn’t help but wince when he heard that. What a way to go. And so young too. He set Blake’s bowl on the table in front of him, handed over the spoon, and went back to get his own and the platter of biscuits. It wasn’t until he sat down with his soup that Blake picked up the narrative again.
“So you know how they wait for a while, when they have a newly dead body, before they declare them gone? Just to make sure? Well, my body temp had dropped so fast that I wasn’t recovering like I should have, so they thought I was actually dead. CPR didn’t even work. I’m just lying there on the bank after they fished me out, and suddenly I’m trying to breathe, only my lungs are filled with water. And I couldn’t move, because I was so cold, and I nearly choked to death again. I must have made a noise or something because one of the EMTs noticed and he turned me on my side and wrapped me in warming blankets. And while I was recovering in the hospital, because it was my first time and I was hypothermic to boot, a rep from Requiem came by.”
“Convenient.” Derek offered a playful smile.
“Right?” Blake chuckled. “I mean, okay. They set up shop here all those years ago because there was an unusually high concentration of mediums in the area. It just made sense. But Sam and I are the only ghostwalkers to be born here, that they know of, in like thirty or forty years.”
Derek pa
used with his spoon halfway to his mouth. “Not your parents?”
Blake made a face. “My parents,” he began, and there was a lot of derision in the word, “refused to be tested. They don’t condone ghostwalking. I mean, what the hell? Right? It’s an important part of our society. Requiem Inc. has been an official agency for more than a hundred and fifty years. There’s only a couple thousand of us. Even fewer anchors who have the gene. To have the genes is an honor. And yet they think it’s some kind of abomination or something. They got Sam tested and basically shunned us both as soon as they found out we had the gene.”
Derek reached out and covered Blake’s hand with his own. He gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry. That sucks.”
Blake drew a deep breath and seemed to shake it off. “Thanks, but I’m over it. Mostly.” He gave Derek a smile. “Anyway, that’s my story.”
“And a hell of a story it is.” It seemed like Blake had a good relationship with his brother. Blake said Sam’s name with obvious affection. But his parents were a different story. Derek hoped never to meet them. He couldn’t be cordial to anyone who would dismiss their children like Blake’s had. Derek filed away the important information and moved on to other things. “How’s the soup?”
Blake looked startled, as though he’d forgotten it was there. He gave a sheepish grin and took a taste. Wonder passed over his face, and he spooned up some more. “You said you were a good cook, but holy crap. This is delicious. Savory and filling, without being heavy. You can cook for me anytime.”
Pleasure warmed the pit of Derek’s stomach. “I expect I’ll be cooking for you a lot. Have a biscuit.” He nudged the platter closer to Blake and then took another taste of his own soup. It was one of his better batches, if he said so himself. He watched Blake out of the corner of his eye so he could see his reaction to the warm, flaky biscuit. It was worth it. Derek smiled.
When they were almost finished, Derek cleared his throat and broached the subject he really needed to discuss. “So I want to say again I’m sorry that they sprang me on you. I didn’t have anything to do with it, but I still feel bad. It shouldn’t have happened that way.”
Blake went silent and still for a long moment, and then he shrugged. “Thanks. But I get why King did it. I would have worked myself up pretty hard if I’d known ahead of time.” He blew out a breath and set down his spoon. Then he lifted his gaze and met Derek’s head-on. “You saw the way I reacted afterward, when I came back to life. It’s intense and emotional for me, and more extreme than most ghostwalkers. When I’m like that, I feel incredibly vulnerable, and it’s been my experience that men don’t handle that as well.”
“Had a bad experience, huh?”
Blake pulled a face. “Several. It’s hard enough getting a guy to date you when they find out you live longer and age more slowly than most humans. No one wants to get involved with someone who’s going to outlive them by fifty years or more—or still look twenty when they’re fifty. Let alone when they find out I’m prone to bouts of such emotionalism.” Blake’s tone turned bitter, and Derek’s heart clenched. He couldn’t believe people were so callous and shallow, knowing what Blake was and did. He opened his mouth to say so, but Blake blew out a breath and waved a dismissive hand.
“Anyway. For my part, I’m sorry I assumed stuff about you.”
Derek nodded and took the apology and the sentiment at face value.
“I appreciate that. And I’m glad you now know that I’m here to take care of you. We can build on that, right?”
Blake gave him an odd look, but he agreed immediately. “Sure.”
“Good.” Derek stood and picked up his bowl. He pointed to Blake’s with his free hand. “You want some more?”
“Yes, please.”
Derek happily served Blake seconds and then once again took a seat at the table. He didn’t have a second bowl himself, and he’d pack up the leftovers later, but he did grab another biscuit. “So, there’s some stuff I need to know about you so I can take care of you the best way when you come back to life. We have time to go through it over the next few days. So do you want to get it over with now? Or would you rather get to know each other more first? We could play the Or game.”
Blake studied him. “The Or game?”
Derek grinned. “Finish your soup. Then we’ll have cookies and play.”
Blake gave him a wary look, but he did as instructed.
Chapter Seven
THEY settled on the couch with drinks and a plate of cookies between them. Blake chose coffee and insisted on making it himself despite Derek’s protests. Blake thought it was sweet. Derek was wired to care, and he gave it his all. It was nice to see someone who embraced their attributes as fully as Derek did. He seemed settled in his skin, happy and content, and that went a long way to helping Blake relax around him.
It had taken Blake the better part of a decade to get there himself. And even so, something big could come along and upset it.
Just as they were finishing dinner, Sam texted that he’d retrieved Blake’s bag and left it outside the door. Blake dropped it in his room, pushed the button on the coffee maker, took his full cup to the living room, and settled in with Derek.
He cradled his mug in his hands and let the hot ceramic warm them. Not that he was cold. Derek fiddled with the thermostat when he saw Blake give the slightest shiver, and the ambient temperature was perfect. But he liked the way the hot drink heated his skin and made the cup almost too hot to hold.
Derek had forgone coffee. His mug was filled with some sort of herbal tea that smelled strongly of lemons but with an earthy undertone. Verbena maybe? Blake couldn’t quite place it, and he hadn’t seen the label when Derek pulled the package out of his bag. It smelled good though, and Blake relaxed back into the cushions and reveled in the unexpected comfort that just sitting with Derek provided.
He was not going to examine that feeling too closely. It was a good thing, on the surface, since Derek was his anchor, but that was as deep as he was willing to go.
“So, the Or game?” Derek’s voice was a pleasant rumble. Blake wondered if it sounded so deep because his chest was wide. Was that how voices worked? Blake didn’t know, but it sounded like a good explanation.
“Uh, yeah. Okay. But what, exactly, is this game?” Blake squinted playfully and pretended to be suspicious, but he wasn’t worried. He didn’t think Derek would do anything to harm him, but he could just refuse to play if he didn’t like it.
“It’s this thing my siblings and I used to do to pass the time when we were on long car trips. We ask an or question, and everyone has to answer. Sometimes we still do it, just for kicks.”
Blake nodded. “How many siblings you got? Just curious.”
“Seven. I’m the third youngest. There are two sets of twins.”
Blake blinked. “There are eight of you?”
Derek grinned. “My parents didn’t even attempt birth control.”
“I guess not.” Blake let out a low whistle. “Okay then. You go first.”
“I’m not going to start with the obvious coffee or tea, because you seem to have already answered that question.” He nodded to Blake’s mug. Then he pursed his lips and thought. “All right. Strawberry or chocolate?”
Blake reached for one of the cookies and held it up with an eyebrow waggle. “Chocolate. Definitely chocolate.”
One of Derek’s dark brows lifted, and Blake suddenly felt flushed. He hadn’t meant that to be an innuendo of any kind, but now that it was out of his mouth, he could see how it could be interpreted. He cleared his throat and tried to think of what to say to backtrack, but Derek didn’t seem to mind. Instead Derek just answered the question.
“Strawberry for me, though I like them both—especially chocolate-covered strawberries.”
Blake had to get his mind out of the gutter. He scrambled for something to say and latched on to the first thought he had. “Pancakes or waffles?”
“Waffles. Fluffy on the inside, crunchy on
the outside. Perfect breakfast food.”
“Me too.” Blake laughed, weirdly pleased.
“I’ll make some for you sometime.” Derek took a drink and focused on Blake again. “My turn. Mountains or beach?”
Blake had to think. “That’s a tough one, because I love the ocean, but I hate getting sand in uncomfortable places. Plus I burn really easily. So I’m gonna have to say mountains. As long as there’s good hiking. And a cabin.”
Derek chuckled. “I don’t think there are supposed to be all those qualifiers, but I’ll take it. I’m a mountain man myself. The beach is nice and all, but I’d rather the peacefulness of the mountains.”
He certainly was a mountain of a man. Derek had to be at least six four, and he had defined muscles hiding underneath his T-shirt. Blake shook himself. Focus.
“Okay, um. Oh. Okay. Wish you had psychic abilities or happy without?”
“Happy just as I am, thanks. I can’t imagine being able to speak to the dead but not being able to help them. Or worse yet, having other people’s thoughts in my head. Mr. King has to have it rough, you know?”
Blake sipped his coffee and then nodded. “It’s worse for him because he’s a Guardian.”
Derek went still. “Really?”
Cocking his head to the side, Blake studied him. “You didn’t know?”
“No. I mean, now that you say it, it makes sense. I don’t know why I didn’t piece it together before, considering what he does.”
“He started out as an anchor, of course, because he has the gene. But no one realized it would manifest so strongly, and he had to work on developing his telepathic abilities. At first it was just snippets of thoughts—bits and pieces. But he trained until he got as strong as he could. He doesn’t just take care of one ghostwalker. He takes care of us all.”
“And thrives on it.”
Blake nodded. Michael King was made for the job, made to care. Since he could also read his employees’ minds, he was particularly suited to take care of their needs. It had come in handy more than once, and while King loved the power, he never abused it. Blake knew they were all lucky to have him as a boss.
Ghost of a Chance Page 5
