by Witt, L. A.
I fully expected a sheepish shrug and an admission that he hadn’t picked up a comic since he was ten, but he actually nodded. “They’re mostly in storage right now until I find a bigger place, and I haven’t kept up with some of the more recent series, but I’ve got a pretty solid collection.”
“Yeah? Marvel or DC?”
“Both. And I’m kind of a sucker for the indie stuff too.”
Somehow, I didn’t swoon. “Oh, a man after my own heart.” I added the wink before I could stop myself, and the sudden pink in his cheeks told me it had come across a lot more flirtatious than I’d intended it to. But he didn’t seem hostile to it, so I made no apologies. A guy who could reset my mood after I’d spent twenty-four hours feeling sorry for myself over whatshisname? Oh yeah, I’d flirt and I’d fucking own that shit.
Clearing his throat, he looked around the store. “I did some D&D when I was a teenager too, but all the games are so . . .” He eyed the RPGs. “They’re all so different now.”
“We have D&D. I didn’t think you were a gamer.”
“Well, like I said—when I was a teenager.”
“I didn’t think they had RPGs in the 1930s.”
“Hey now. We had to have something to pass the time during the Depression.”
I laughed. “Well played.”
He chuckled and surveyed the shelves around us. “You a gamer?”
“Fuck yeah, I’m a gamer.”
Garrett grinned, meeting my gaze. “Yeah? What do you play?”
“Anything I can get my hands on. I love first-person shooters.”
“Me too.” He grimaced. “Some of them give me a bit of motion sickness, but hey, that’s why God gave us Dramamine.”
“That’s hard-core. PC or console?”
“All of the above.”
Oh Lord. Oh Lord. My mouth had gone dry, and I had no idea what to say without sounding like an idiot. How often did hot older men stroll in here with a love of comics and no snobbishness about gaming systems? Oh Lord.
His gaze halted on a shelf up by the register. “Wow, you guys have a ton of Wolf’s Landing gear.”
“Yeah, my bosses work directly with the author and the production studio, and now that they’ve got all the licensing shit squared away, we get all the good stuff.” I nodded toward the street. “Marlina next door gets pissed since she’s running the actual Wolf’s Landing shop, but tough shit. My boss is buddies with Hunter Easton, so . . .”
“Nice.” Garrett shifted his gaze to the display of Wolf’s Landing hardcovers. “I keep meaning to read the series. My—” He stopped so abruptly, I was surprised his teeth didn’t snap together. Then he muffled a cough and said, “My sister’s into it, and she’s been trying to get me to read them. Says the show is much better if you read the books first.”
“It is.” I motioned toward the shelves. “I can hook you up.” Glancing over my shoulder, I added in a hushed voice, “Don’t tell my bosses, but I can give you a discount too.”
“I heard that,” Simon’s voice came from somewhere in the back.
“Damn it. Fucker’s got bat hearing, I’m telling you.”
Garrett laughed. “Something about bosses.”
“Right?” I rolled my eyes.
Still smiling, Garrett looked at the books again. “Oh, the copies are signed?” He tugged one off the shelf and gently opened the cover to reveal the signature. This was one of the early books, so it only had Hunter Easton’s autograph; the later books were signed by both him and Kevin Hussain. Garrett hummed and gave a slight nod. “Okay, I’m in.” He held up the book. “You get a commission?”
I nodded.
“In that case.” He gestured at the display. “Why don’t I pick up the whole series?”
I straightened. “Really?”
“Yeah. You know, so when I finish one, I can dive into the next.” His expression suddenly had a mixture of shyness and playfulness. Like he was joking about his motive, but also didn’t want me to get weirded out that he was buying the entire set—the entire signed hardcover set—after finding out I’d get a commission. Self-consciousness was a strange look on him. He usually seemed pretty sure of himself, so that hint of vulnerability was—
Oh, who was I kidding? It melted my little black heart. As if I weren’t already putty in his hands.
I cleared my throat. “Oh, um, I almost forgot. Hunter and Kevin—er, Kevyan come in once a month or so for signings. Next time they’re here, you should come! Get your books—well, they’re already signed, but you could get them personalized.” A second too late, I realized how stupidly excited I sounded.
Before I could rein back the enthusiasm, though, Garrett smiled. “Remind me when we get closer.” He gestured at the books. “Couldn’t hurt to get him to put my name in them, right?”
“No, not at all. And you’ll love the guys. In fact, if you come in a bit before or after the signing, I can introduce you to them instead of having you wait in line.”
His smile broadened. “I like the sound of that.”
“Cool. I’ll keep you posted.”
“Sounds good.”
Part of me still wanted to tense up and wait for the other shoe to drop. For him to take it back and tell me I was an idiot for thinking he’d actually come to the shop to see me, the authors, or anything else. But that didn’t make sense. He never seemed like he was humoring me. I could say something stupid—deliberately or otherwise—and he’d roll with it. I’d never once seen easy, kid in his eyes, and that said something. It was almost like he . . . liked the side of me that seemed to annoy everyone else.
And my little black heart melted a little more.
I helped him carry the books to the cash register. As I rang them up and he pulled out his wallet, Garrett did a double take. “Holy shit. Magic: The Gathering?” He picked up one of the starter decks off the rack. “They still make this game?”
“You know it?”
“Yeah. One of my roommates in college taught me to play.” He hung the deck back up. “I can’t even remember the last time I played. I’ve probably forgotten everything.”
“You’d be surprised. I know guys who learned when it first came out in the mid-1990s, then picked it up again years later and played it just fine. I mean, as long as you know the basic rules, you just follow the directions on the cards.”
He seemed to consider that for a moment. “True. I don’t remember it being all that complicated.”
“Well, it didn’t use to be. They’ve, uh, added to it.”
“Yeah? You play?”
I nodded. “We have tournaments here, actually.” I nodded toward the tables, which were currently empty. “I play in them whenever I’m not working.”
Garrett glanced at the tables, lips pursed. Then he tossed a starter deck and some boosters on top of the books.
As I scanned them, I said, “If you ever want to play, say the word. I’ve got plenty of decks at home.” And why did my heart start pounding as soon as I’d asked? It wasn’t like I’d suggested we go on a date or something.
But as he always seemed to do when I’d said something that sounded stupid to me, he smiled. “I might take you up on that.” He paused, then added, “If you don’t mind me being a little rusty.”
“Sounds like fun. I’ll go easy on you.” I very nearly cringed. Every other thing I said to him came out sounding like it could be seriously misconstrued.
God help me, but the man winked. “You don’t have to do that. I’m pretty sure it’ll come back to me.”
“Yeah. We’ll see.” I chuckled, hoping he didn’t notice how jittery I suddenly was as I rang up the cards and books. If he did, he didn’t say anything.
After he’d paid and I’d bagged everything, I handed it all over the counter.
“Thanks,” he said. “This should keep me busy for a while.”
“You’d be surprised—most people blow through Wolf’s Landing in no time.”
“We’ll see.” That hint of shynes
s materialized again in the slight dip of his chin. “I’m, uh, not that fast of a reader.”
“Well, at least you can stretch it out for a while. I blazed through the first four books in two weeks, and had to wait months for the next one.” I sighed dramatically. “It was torture, I’m telling you.”
Garrett laughed. “I’m sure. Okay, well, I’ll let you get back to work.” He paused. “You coming by the bar tonight?”
I am now. My heart sped up. “You want me to?”
Our eyes locked. For a few seconds, we were both silent, the awkward tension of an unspoken dare hanging between us.
Then he swallowed. “It’s always good to see you.”
I moistened my lips. “I’ll be there after my shift, then.”
His face lit up. “Looking forward to it.”
You and me both.
He left, and before the door had even swung shut behind him, Dexy appeared beside me, craning her neck to watch him go. “That your new boo?”
“My ‘new boo’?” I rolled my eyes. “Seriously?”
She smothered a giggle and elbowed me. “I’m kidding. We both know he has to be your insatiable sex toy for a few months before he gets upgraded to boo status.”
“Dex!”
A gruff laugh from behind us turned me around, and I found Simon smirking at me.
I wagged a finger at him. “Not a word.”
“What?” He put up his hands and batted his eyes. “I said nothing.”
“Uh-huh.”
Dexy snorted. “Simon says . . .” She pointed at the window. “That dude is Jesse’s new boo.”
Simon laughed harder. Dexy giggled.
I just rolled my eyes. “I hate you both.”
But deep down, I kind of hoped they were onto something.
Chapter 8
Garrett
Just as I’d hoped, Jesse was here this evening. He took his usual barstool and nursed a Coke on the rocks while we shot the shit in between me filling drinks for the smattering of other customers. He’d only been in here a couple of times, but I’d already decided I loved it when he came to the bar. Now we had even more to talk about. Video games. Obscure comic series no one seemed to have heard of. The ever-more-complex game of Magic, which I was suddenly itching to play again. The time flew by, and even the odd belligerent drunk or stubborn keg tap hadn’t put a damper on my mood.
Before I knew it, it was last call.
To my surprise, though, Jesse didn’t seem to be in a big hurry to take off. He took his time settling his bill, and there was still some Coke left in his glass.
As I wiped down the bar, he glanced at me. “Will your boss get mad if I hang out until you close?”
My hand stopped. “I . . . No. Of course not.” Clearing my throat, I continued mopping up the scattered crumbs and water droplets off the hardwood. “Can’t imagine it’ll be all that exciting for you.”
He smiled. “I’m pretty sure I can keep myself entertained until you’re done.”
I was tempted to ask what the plan was after that, but the words got lost in my throat. Did this mean something? Was he as interested in me as I was in him? I was afraid to ask, thinking I’d send him running. Like the moment was a flock of easily startled pigeons just waiting for a reason to fly off in a panic.
Or maybe that was just me.
“I’m, uh . . . I need to take care of a few things in the back room. Won’t be long.”
“No rush.” God. That smile.
I took the bag of trash out from under my station and ducked through the doorway that led to the kitchen and the break room. At the end of the hall, I leaned out another door to toss the bag in the dumpster. When I stepped back inside, Don was there. He glanced into the barroom, gaze landing on Jesse, and an amused expression curled his lips. “New friend, eh?”
My cheeks burned. Don’s expression was gentle, though. He wasn’t getting on my case, just playfully ribbing me. And maybe there was even something more there. After all, he knew why I’d come to Bluewater Bay.
“Um. Yes, sir.” I cleared my throat. “He’s . . .”
He clapped my shoulder. “Get out of here, Blaine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Are you sure?”
“Go.” He nudged me toward the door. “Hailey and I can finish up here.”
Don wasn’t terribly generous with the early dismissals, so I wasn’t going to argue. I grabbed my coat and clocked out. When Jesse and I made eye contact, I nodded toward the door, and he followed me outside.
The night was cool and smelled like pine trees and saltwater, and it was a nice switch after being in the stuffy barroom for the last several hours.
“So, um.” I turned to Jesse. “Where are you parked?”
He gestured down the road. “At the end of the block.”
“You, um . . .” I hesitated. “Mind if I walk with you?” I felt stupid asking. He was the one who’d stuck around.
Jesse smiled. “Not at all.”
As we started walking, I slid my hands into the pockets of my jeans. He did the same. We both looked straight ahead, neither saying a word as our steps fell into sync. It had been a long, long time since I’d been a nervous teenager walking through the halls of my high school next to someone I’d been crushing on, frantically trying to work up the courage to say something before the bell rang, but I was pretty sure that had felt a lot like this.
My pulse was all over the place. It had also been ages since I’d made a move on anyone. Especially sober. How did we do this? And was I misreading all his signals? Or giving off the wrong ones myself?
Then Jesse cleared his throat and broke the silence. “You don’t mind me coming in every night and hanging out until you close, do you?”
“Mind?” I shook my head. “Why would I mind?”
“I don’t know.” Jesse stared at the ground and shrugged. “I just didn’t want you thinking I was stalking you or something.”
“Did it seem like I was stalking you when I showed up at the comic book store?”
His lips quirked. “No. It was . . .” He paused, and a smile came to life as he turned toward me. “It was actually really nice. Especially after the shitty day I’d been having.”
“Really? You seemed like you were in a good mood.”
“I was.” He stopped, and when our eyes locked, he whispered, “Because you were there.”
My heart skipped. I had no idea what to say. Judging by the sudden red in his cheeks, he didn’t either.
Jesse dropped his gaze and pushed his hands deeper into his pockets. “I, um . . . It was kind of a rough day. Yesterday, mostly, but I still felt like shit today.” Pulling in a deep breath, he looked at me through his lashes and offered the faintest half shrug. “Then you were there. And the day . . . didn’t suck anymore.”
“Oh.” That was all that remained of my vocabulary. I watched him, lips parted and eyes wide, not sure where to go from here.
The red in his cheeks darkened, and he cleared his throat as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. I’m, uh, not exactly smooth when it comes to this stuff.”
“That makes two of us. I never was good at this part.”
Our eyes locked. The air around us seemed to freeze in place. My heart slammed against my rib cage. Something about our words amped everything up. Like we’d acknowledged this wasn’t just a friendly walk to his car. That “this part” wasn’t my imagination, and something might . . . happen.
Yeah. It might happen. And I wanted it to.
With my heart in my throat, I took a half step closer. Jesse pulled in a breath, tensing a little—I swore I could feel his pulse surge—but he didn’t move away.
Calling on every bit of courage I had, hoping like hell I wasn’t about to screw everything up, I reached for his face. Jesse tensed again, inhaling through his nose, but he still didn’t pull away. When my fingertips brushed his cheek, we both froze.
Voice unsteady, I said, “I, um . . . I haven’t done this in a long time
.”
“Yeah?” He ran the tip of his tongue across his lip. “How long?”
I couldn’t help staring at his lips. “Too long.” Not since the last man who—
This time it was Jesse who narrowed the space between us. His shirt was almost brushing mine. One firm breeze and our clothes would touch. But there was no wind. If we were going to get any closer, one of us would have to do the work.
As I inched toward him, Jesse lifted his chin. He might as well have been giving me a literal green light, but nerves kept me from getting all the way there. The heat radiating off his body warmed my skin through my clothes, and there was no misinterpreting what the next step would be, but I . . . Fuck, I couldn’t. My stomach fluttered and my pulse was going crazy, and I silently begged him to—
His hand met my chest. Palm flat. Fingers splayed. Panic shot through me as I envisioned him shoving me back, but he didn’t. He slid his hand higher, over my thumping heart, and when his fingers brushed my neck, I sucked in a hiss of breath.
He didn’t stop. His hand curved around the back of my neck, nearly dropping my knees out from under me, and then his other arm went around my waist, and the pavement rocked under my feet, and—
We kissed.
Softly. Just lips pressing against lips. No moving. No breathing. Nothing except letting this gentle, earth-shaking moment linger. I didn’t know if he was waiting for me to get my feet under me—if he knew how badly I needed to get my feet under me—or if he was just savoring the unhurried contact, but I didn’t argue.
After a while, Jesse tilted his head and let his lower lip drag across mine. I wrapped my arms around him, and he sighed as he deepened the kiss. There was nothing rushed about his kiss or his touch. Even his breathing was slow and impossibly controlled, whispering across my cheek in soft, warm gusts.
I was lucky I remembered to breathe at all. For a lot of reasons, I hadn’t let myself think about what it might be like to kiss a man again. If anything, I’d figured I would feel guilty and reluctant and hesitant as hell, but I didn’t. I definitely hadn’t expected it to feel so . . . right. Like this was happening in the exact moment and in the exact place with the exact man it was supposed to.
