by Amy Lane
“Then we still win.”
Adam’s smile widened. “What if all I want to do right now is take the dog for a walk and then take you to bed?”
Finn kissed each eyelid, a breath, a touch, and then Adam felt his lips, and the sweetest benediction Adam could ever imagine. “I think that sounds like an amazing plan,” Finn murmured. “I think we should do that one.”
Clopper was, of course, all for it. They walked the muffled streets of Adam’s new home, and Adam felt more peace in his heart than he could ever remember.
Sleeping Pictures
THAT NIGHT Adam shucked his clothes and sat on the bed in his boxers, gesturing Finn to come stand, fully clothed, between his knees.
Then he proceeded to kiss Finn’s stomach, his hips, his chest, delicate rubs of skin against skin, only the brush of tongue as Adam explored.
He discovered flat moles on Finn’s back—five or six of them—and an odd sort of elongated freckle on the back of his neck.
“It’s a stork mark,” Finn murmured, sitting on the bed now in the V of Adam’s thighs. He lowered his head to give Adam better access. “Mom says that’s where the stork carried me.”
Adam nibbled on it, thinking of a baby Finn being carried by an oversize bird. He could draw that, he thought. He would love to draw that.
Adam kept kissing, kept exposing little secrets in the lamplight, and Finn trembled with every touch of lips to skin.
By the time Finn was naked, stretched out in front of Adam with his hands over his head because Adam had put them there and asked him to stay, Finn couldn’t talk anymore. He grunted and wiggled and spoke in half syllables and partial words.
“Ad… yeah… no… more… oh Go… ki… not the… ah….”
Adam drank him in, his trust, his need, his absolute confidence that Adam would give him whatever he needed.
Adam had that confidence too. Adam gave him exactly what he needed.
And when Adam was inside of him, possessing him, holding Finn’s hands above his head and thrusting his sensitized, pulsing body into oblivion, Adam had the sense—the sublime, amazing revelation—that this was what sex was for.
So he could make love to Finn.
Finn came without touching himself, his moan of climax deep and resonant—a man’s sound—and Adam had never been so happy to have a man in his bed. Adam came sheathed in Finn, his orgasm washing from his groin outward, like the electromagnetic pulse from a massive detonation, leaving him helpless, shorted out, quivering in Finn’s arms without consciousness or care.
Finn took care of him when he was like this.
He would wake, barely, while Finn washed them both off and turned out the lights and then crawled into bed with him, curling into Adam’s warmth so easily, so naturally, it was like Adam never had any doubts that he could give Finn what he needed.
He was starting to lose those doubts—but he’d never forget that he had them.
Maybe Finn had the right of it. Maybe you never really lost those pictures that hurt you. But maybe they could become less and less of all of the pictures in your heart.
THE DAWN was barely gray when Adam’s phone went off, reminding him that it was time to get up and go help at the homeless shelter. He reached over Finn’s shoulder to where the phone rested in the charger, and avoided crushing the cat, who had insinuated himself between them again, the better to snuggle with Finn at stork-mark level.
He’d no sooner recovered his phone than it buzzed with a text from Rico.
Merry Christmas from New York, Rico texted, complete with a picture of lower Broadway, the part that used to be all textile mills, taken through a window. It was decked out for Hanukkah mostly, but there was still the odd Christmas tree in the windows below, and Adam wondered how high up Rico was to take such an awesome scene. He wanted to draw it.
But first he pulled back just enough to capture the kitten tangled in Finn’s strawberry blond hair.
Merry Christmas from Finn, my boyfriend, and Jake, your cat. He’d shown Rico lots of pictures of Jake—but this was his first of Finn.
They’re both beautiful, Adam. You sound happy.
I am. Are you?
Very much. I don’t have to go to San Diego and pretend anymore.
Pretend what?
That Grandma’s an okay human being and I’m not mad at my mom for leaving you at her mercy.
Forget about it. You were my only good thing.
Pretend I let them slam you out of the house and I’m not just like you.
Rico sent that with a picture much like Adam’s, except this was taken with his back to the window, and the sleeping features of a young, dark-haired man were illuminated by the snow-glowing morning behind them. Glittering on his chest was a tiny six-pointed star.
Adam thought, Oh, Rico. You didn’t tell anybody? Oh God. You must have been so afraid, and his heart stuttered against his ribs.
He’s beautiful too. Congratulations, cousin. I hope you’re happy too.
I am. His name is Ezra.
You and me will always be family. Someday maybe I’ll meet him.
I’d like that. I’d like that so much. Someday, I’d like to meet Finn.
Love you, Rico. Merry Christmas.
Love you too, Adam. Happy Hanukkah.
Adam sent a smiley face and then put the phone back and wrapped his arms around Finn.
“Mm… is it time already?”
“You know, we could sleep in if it didn’t take you half an hour to poop.”
Finn rolled over in his arms, and the cat hauled its lazy ass up the pillow to get out of the way. “I get some of my best thinking done that way.”
“Yeah? What are you going to be thinking about today?”
“That I’m in love with someone who loves me back.”
Adam nuzzled the hollow of his neck, which smelled like cat and eggnog, and a little like sex, and mostly like Finn. “You think about that as long as you want. I’ll be thinking about it too.”
“Merry Christmas, Adam.”
“Merry Christmas, Finn. Let’s get out of bed and see what kinds of memories we can make, okay?”
“Yeah. Let’s make sure to take lots of pictures so you can draw them later.”
Adam thought of the portrait he was giving Finn for Christmas. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”
So much hope. The first Christmas ever that he would have all the hope in the world—but, God willing, not the last by far.
Cherry Pixy Stix
THE DAY after Christmas, Darrin walked into his shop a little late and found that most of his staff had done all of the setup during the way way early. Well, yes, it was good to be boss, right?
People were pretty much at the “hanging around and waiting to open” stage, and Darrin looked over to the counter to see Adam perched on the sales stool, and Finn tucked up between his thighs. They were discussing apartments, and animals, and where Finn thought they could get the best deal in June, and Darrin warmed, just watching them.
Adam would be here for a while—three or four years, at least—but that was because Finn wasn’t planning on moving away from him. Ever.
They would be happy, Darrin thought, remembering the Pixy Stix. They would have lives, careers, giant dogs, gentle cats, and maybe even children, sometime off in the hazy, hazy future of their own.
He wanted that for them, but he didn’t doubt they would have it. He’d seen it. Pixy Stix never lied.
“Hey, boss,” Joni said, coming up to greet him with a hug. “Did you hear about Miguel?”
“Yes—he finally took that internship instead of hanging around here, didn’t he?”
Joni rolled her eyes. “I should have known you’d know. Are we going to need to hire anybody else?”
Darrin thought about it. “Probably not. At least not until June.”
Unbidden, even without the Pixy Stix, he saw her. Feral, hair butchered and dyed too many colors, more piercings than was probably comfortable, flat eyes, and a real attitude
.
She’d be perfect, he thought, looking at Joni. Joni’s loneliness wasn’t palpable yet, but by June she’d be in the perfect mood to maybe tame their new employee.
And in the meantime, Darrin’s little store, his sweet little world, was happy, and so were the people in it.
He looked at Adam and Finn again, liking how Finn looked away at the last minute, because Adam’s obvious worship made him blush.
It was a great way to make a living, overlooking the banks of the Sacramento River. You never knew what life’s current would bring you, and never knew from whence it would come.
About the Author
AMY LANE is a mother of four and a compulsive knitter who writes because she can’t silence the voices in her head. She adores cats, Chi-who-whats, knitting socks, and hawt menz, and she dislikes moths, cat boxes, and knuckle-headed macspazzmatrons. She is rarely found cooking, cleaning, or doing domestic chores, but she has been known to knit up an emergency hat/blanket/pair of socks for any occasion whatsoever, or sometimes for no reason at all. She writes in the shower, while at the gym, while taxiing children to soccer/dance/gymnastics/band oh my! and has learned from necessity to type like the wind. She lives in a spider-infested, crumbling house in a shoddy suburb and counts on her beloved Mate to keep her tethered to reality—which he does, while keeping her cell phone charged as a bonus. She’s been married for twenty-plus years and still believes in Twu Wuv, with a capital Twu and a capital Wuv, and she doesn’t see any reason at all for that to change.
Website: www.greenshill.com
Blog: www.writerslane.blogspot.com
E-mail: [email protected]
Facebook: www.facebook.com/amy.lane.167
Twitter: @amymaclane
By AMY LANE
Behind the Curtain
Bewitched by Bella’s Brother
Bolt-hole
Candy Man
Christmas with Danny Fit
Clear Water
Curious (Dreamspinner Anthology)
Do-over
Gambling Men: The Novel
Going Up!
Grand Adventures (Dreamspinner Anthology)
Hammer & Air
If I Must
It’s Not Shakespeare
Left on St. Truth-be-Well
The Locker Room
Mourning Heaven
Phonebook
Puppy, Car, and Snow
Racing for the Sun
Raising the Stakes
Shiny!
Sidecar
A Solid Core of Alpha
Super Sock Man
Truth in the Dark
Turkey in the Snow
Under the Rushes
Wishing on a Blue Star (Dreamspinner Anthology)
GREEN’S HILL
Guarding the Vampire’s Ghost • I love you, asshole! • Litha’s Constant Whim
THE KEEPING PROMISE ROCK SERIES
Keeping Promise Rock • Making Promises • Living Promises • Forever Promised
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Blackbird Knitting in a Bunny’s Lair
By Amy Lane
A Granby Knitting novel
After three years of waiting for “rabbit” Jeremy to commit to a life in Granby—and a life together—Aiden Rhodes was appalled when Jeremy sustained a nearly fatal beating to keep a friend out of harm’s way. How could Aiden’s bunny put himself in danger like that?
Aiden needs to get over himself, because Jeremy has a long road to recovery, and he’s going to need Aiden’s promise of love every step of the way. Jeremy has new scars on his face and body to deal with, and his heart can’t afford any more wounds.
When their friend’s baby needs some special care, the two men find common ground to firm up their shaky union. With Aiden’s support and his boss’s inspiration, Jeremy comes up with a plan to make sure Ariadne’s little blackbird comes into this world with everything she needs. While Jeremy grows into his new role as protector, Aiden needs to ease back on his protectiveness over his once-timid lover. Aiden may be a wolf in student’s clothing and Jeremy may be a rabbit of a man, but that doesn’t mean they can’t walk the wilds of Granby together.
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The Granby Knitting stories
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Behind the Curtain
By Amy Lane
Dawson Barnes recognizes his world is very small and very charmed. Running his community college theater like a petty god, he and his best friend, Benji know they’ll succeed as stage techs after graduation. His father adores him, Benji would die for him, and Dawson never doubted the safety net of his family, even when life hit him below the belt.
But nothing prepared him for falling on Jared Emory’s head.
Aloof dance superstar Jared is a sweet, vulnerable man and Dawson’s life suits him like a fitted ballet slipper. They forge a long-distance romance from their love of the theater and the magic of Denny’s. At first it’s perfect: Dawson gets periodic visits and nookie from a gorgeous man who “gets” him—and Jared gets respite from the ultra-competitive world of dancing that almost consumed him.
That is until Jared shows up sick and desperate and Dawson finally sees the distance between them concealed painful things Jared kept inside. If he doesn’t grow up—and fast—his “superstar” might not survive his own weaknesses. That would be a shame, because the real, fragile Jared that Daws
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The Johnnies Series
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Keeping Promise Rock Series
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The Talker Series
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Copyright
Published by
DREAMSPINNER PRESS
5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886 USA
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Candy Man
© 2014 Amy Lane.
Cover Art
© 2014 Paul Richmond.
http://www.paulrichmondstudio.com
Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.
All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/.
Digital ISBN: 978-1-63216-679-1
First Edition December 2014
Printed in the United States of America
Table of Contents
Author’s Note
Pixy Stix
Lifeline
Sign in the Window
The Lay of Alien Territory
Sunset by the River
Bad Habits of Sweets
Not Thankful
The Things We Live Without
&nb
sp; Personal Things
Sunrise
Pretty Pictures, Pretty Words
Sleeping Pictures
Cherry Pixy Stix
About the Author
The Granby Knitting stories
The Johnnies Series
Keeping Promise Rock Series
The Talker Series
Copyright
