by Elle Keaton
“Excuse me? What did you say to him?”
Before Sacha could interrogate him, Zeke chimed in. He and Parker had come to some sort of understanding, which involved coming home to find them all wrapped up in each other, watching some show about teenaged werewolves. “Let them sort it out. Don’t you think we have enough drama of our own?”
“Look, Parker, Seth and I are both adults,” Sacha said. “We’ll figure it out, or we won’t. But the last thing I need is you sticking your disaster-magnet self into the equation.”
“I am not a disaster magnet!”
“You so are,” Zeke affirmed.
“I told Seth that he better not break you, that he needed to take you seriously.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. “You know what, Parker, stay out of it. You and Zeke go somewhere and have hot monkey sex, watch a movie, go on a roller coaster—but stay the fuck out of my love life.”
“Love life?” Parker arched his eyebrows at Sacha. Zeke, the smarter of the two, grabbed his boyfriend and dragged him out of the room. They’d temporarily checked into a bed and breakfast. It wasn’t ideal or cheap, but it would do for a few days.
Sacha should have done this before, realized that Seth was feeling overwhelmed and found somewhere neutral to stay. The signs had been there, if Sacha had been paying attention. Not so much in how Seth acted or what he said, but what he didn’t say.
Sacha wasn’t too worried; they had a real connection. Maybe Seth was going to try to deny it, play it off as nothing, but Sacha wasn’t. He was going to fight for what he wanted.
In the meantime he had a meeting to attend in the morning.
With what he hoped was a polite smile pasted on his face, Sacha hesitated outside room 103 before entering. A sign taped to the door indicated the Skagit Chamber of Commerce meeting was from 8 to 10 a.m. Jesus fucking Christ, what had his life come to? From the startled glances he received, he wasn’t sure how successful he was with the smile. Maybe he had something on his shirt? He brushed his chest, surreptitiously glancing down at himself. Nope, his black T-shirt and the half-buttoned short-sleeved plaid shirt covering it were clean. Thanks to Seth’s washer and dryer.
The Skagit Nordic Center, where the Chamber of Commerce held monthly meetings, dated from the 1920s, as did the cooling system. The large conference room was stiflingly warm. Tables were arranged in a U shape. A flimsy-looking credenza sat to one side, laboring under the weight of two huge ancient coffee urns and several trays of doughnuts provided by a local bakery. The pastries were visibly wilting while members loitered, waiting for the meeting to begin.
While standing in the line for coffee and thinking about a doughnut, Sacha tried to decide if coming to the meeting had been a good choice or not. Parker and Zeke seemed to think something positive could come of it. He’d finally reached the front of the line and was pouring coffee into a paper to-go cup when a familiar voice cut across his thoughts. A hand clasped his shoulder, “Sacha Bolic, great to see you. Skip the coffee; you’ll thank me later.”
He stepped away, forcing the overly friendly Christopher Meyer to drop his hand. Sacha gritted his teeth. He was here to see if he could get the permit process moving, not make friends, but he needed to be nice. So said Parker.
As Sacha was on the way out the door, Parker had flung a last piece of advice at him. “Remember, you’re there to network, not intimidate. Don’t get the two confused. One means you meet some people who may be able to help you. The other means even cold-call salespeople will avoid you,” Sacha’d perked up a bit, “which may sound great but is not good for your future business.” Tricky fucker.
“Meyer,” Sacha ground out. Parker’s advice to try to relax bounced around in his head. He took a breath and tried again. “Meyer, nice to see you.”
“Glad you decided to join.” Meyer’s deep voice carried across the room. Sacha almost turned and walked back out the door. “Come on.” Meyer deftly maneuvered Sacha away from the coffee before he could grab it. “Sit with me.”
Was this guy for real? Chris (as he corrected Sacha again) dragged him over to a set of seats at the corner of the U. “Best seats, not in Halsey’s direct line of sight. Let me warn you, these things can get really boring, but they’re great for networking,” he whispered, scooting his chair a little closer to Sacha’s.
Networking. A circle of hell Sacha had never considered before.
A tall older woman with straight, iron-gray hair dropping past her shoulders strode to the podium. The scattered whispered conversations quieted as she looked around at her audience.
“Good morning, lovelies.” Oh, fuck. Sacha tried not to groan out loud.
It was boring. Mind-numbingly boring. Sacha regretted not grabbing coffee, regardless of the warning. He could feel his brain cells atrophying.
There was roll call (Sacha declined to raise his hand). Minutes from the previous meeting were read aloud. Finally, members motioned to add new items. Sacha’s eyes began to roll back in his head, and Meyer nudged his shoulder, chuckling quietly.
After a motion to add something about “nuisance noise” after eleven at night, the chairperson, Halsey, stood at the podium and began an excruciating speech about regressive taxation and why the Skagit City Council was hurting the economy with its current bid to tax something that Sacha should probably care about. Sweat trickled down his spine, and he shifted in his chair. He would rather have been back in Kansas City listening to a basic procedures refresh than this… dreck.
Chris pushed a business card toward him, flipping it so Sacha could see something written on the back. Halsey was good; she saw the movement and narrowed her eyes at the both of them before continuing to drone on about Q3 tourism numbers and the possibility of a neighborhood gardens tour. Sacha suspected she’d been in law enforcement at some point.
What kind of adult male passes notes? Sacha swiped the card up and shoved it in his pocket, but not before seeing a phone number scrawled on it with “Call me.” Fuck his life. It had never occurred to him that Chris Meyers was interested. He scooted his chair a little further away.
When the droning ended, Sacha left his seat, avoiding Chris, and began shaking hands with other members and introducing himself as the new owner of the Warrick. He fielded a number of questions about what he was going to do with the building before he finally met someone with connections to the city permitting office. Of course, it was Halsey.
“Darling,” she gushed, “I know just who you need to reach out to.” Sacha ground his teeth, refusing to look in Chris’s direction, as Halsey (Valkyrie came to mind) led him to a group huddled by the podium. It was obvious they were waiting to talk with her, and with no effort Sacha had cut to the front of the line.
Twenty grueling minutes later, Sacha had two more phone numbers and a scary promise that Halsey would follow up with him in a few days about the process. Did she have a last name? He was scared to ask.
“Hey what are you doing here?” A soft voice, not Chris Meyer’s, came from behind him. Sacha turned to see Buck Swanfeldt looking a little nervous.
“Buck.” It was like having a lifeline thrown to him. He didn’t think he could shake another stranger’s hand or field one more question about what he was doing in Skagit. “Thank fu—god, do you wanna to grab a coffee or something?”
Buck took in Sacha’s frazzled state before eyeing the empty paper cup he was holding. “I’m not sure either one of us needs coffee. But yeah, let’s see if we can escape.”
Outside the Nordic Hall, Sacha stopped. He didn’t have a clue where to go. “Is there a coffee place around?”
“I, uh, can’t be gone from the shop much longer. I left Miguel in charge—he’s going to need a break soon.”
“How about I follow you?”
After parking his truck outside the chain-link fence, he followed Buck toward his auto shop. The bay doors were wide open. Sacha could see Buck’s partner, Miguel, bent over the open hood of a sedan, a younger mechanic standing on the other side liste
ning to him. His hand gestures spoke louder than his actual voice. A second, younger kid stood off to one side, laughing.
“Jeez, I hope Miguel isn’t using sex as a metaphor again,” Buck commented. “Every time he does, Dom nearly dies of embarrassment. Although I have to say it is effective; he hasn’t forgotten a lesson yet.”
“Thanks for rescuing me from that hell.”
“The Chamber? Yeah, they mostly have good intentions, but Halsey, she’s new at being chairperson and has taken the role seriously.” Buck snorted as he led Sacha through the shop to his little office. “What brought you there?”
The office was dimly lit and sparsely furnished. Buck motioned toward an uncomfortable-looking chair before he sat behind a big metal desk.
“Electrical wiring permits,” Sacha said. “I need a new box, and a bunch of other things I can’t do myself.” He went on to tell Buck about the Warrick and fill him in on his plans, which he was going to have to thank Micah for, because the longer he was in Skagit the more he believed an artistic office space was needed and might actually turn a profit. Sacha Bolic, businessman extraordinaire.
“Wow. Uh, that’s crazy, I thought I was imagining things when I saw you there.” He looked a little sheepish and a lot shy. “So you’re really not here in some kind of official capacity?”
“Nope, I’m retired. I promise, I’m done with my life of crime.”
Buck grinned. He was handsome, huge and Nordic. “I can’t wait to tell Joey I saw you again. He’s going to be jealous. He’s been talking about you since that day at the Loft. You need to come over for dinner or something. I know he would love to see you.” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket where it must have started vibrating. “Hey, yeah, guess what? You’ll never guess. Sacha is here in the office. I ran into him at the Chamber meeting today.” Leaning over the desk, Buck shoved his phone toward Sacha. “He wants to say hi.”
The next morning, Sacha tracked Joey down at Buck’s house. It wasn’t until they’d hung up the day before that Sacha realized he needed honest advice and Joey was the sole person he could ask. He’d given Seth two days of “space”; it was time for action.
“You do know, people who work night shift need their sleep. As do hot US Marshals who looked like they stayed up all night,” Joey said when he opened the door. The kid’s shit car was parked in front, so Sacha had known Joey was there.
Joey opened the door wide enough for him to slip inside. His fiancé was sprawled on the couch with a cup of coffee, flipping through the morning news channels.
“Morning,” Buck offered.
Sacha came further into the room, motioning for Buck to stay where he was. “Morning,” he replied before flopping onto the smaller couch.
“By all means, make yourself at home,” Joey snarked. There was no heat behind his words, though. Sacha had a soft spot for both young men.
“Coffee?” Buck asked, waving his cup around like it would magically refill.
Sacha opened his mouth to answer when Miguel from Buck’s shop appeared in the living room, shirtless, only a towel wrapped around his waist. He was medium height, falling somewhere between Sacha, who was 6’4”, and Joey, who insisted he was 5’7”. Dark, almost-black hair, mocha skin, an aristocratic face—sharp cheekbones and a straight nose, although it looked to have been broken at least once. Vibrant green eyes were his most striking feature, Sacha had never seen that color before. He didn’t have words to describe the shade, but they reminded him of the lake he and Seth had stopped at.
The room fell noticeably silent. All three men were watching him, and Sacha realized, much to his embarrassment, he’d been staring. He cleared his throat, not knowing what to say. Joey sniggered.
“Don’t mind Miguel, he’s kind of an exhibitionist.”
Buck laughed. “Kind of? Go put some clothes on, Romeo. Sacha can’t handle you.”
“Most of the boys can’t. It’s a shame, really.” Instead of leaving, he walked over to Sacha and stuck out his hand. The other kept a precarious hold on the towel Sacha was ignoring. “Miguel Ramirez, pleasure meeting you.”
“Miguel,” Buck growled, “he’s a cop. I thought you had an allergy.”
“Retired. I, uh, retired a few months ago.”
“See, he’s retired, so I don’t have to be allergic.”
“Go. Put. Some. Clothes. On.” Buck again.
“Don’t mind Miguel, he’s a tomcat,” Joey said. “Acts all friendly and flirty until you get too close, then he bites—rawrr.” Miguel flipped Joey off and left the room.
Buck stood, swallowing the last of his coffee. “Sorry ’bout that. Miguel is good people, but a handful for sure. I don’t envy the person who ends up with him. Anyhow, I gotta go open the shop. Nice to see you again. Don’t stay too long; Joey had a night shift last night, and I like it better when he gets the sleep he needs.” Joey shot Buck a nauseatingly sweet smile, following him to the door for a scorching kiss. Sacha had to avert his eyes.
After Joey closed the door behind Buck, he turned back to Sacha. “So, why’d you stop by? Wait, before you start, let’s get some coffee going.”
“Will you be able to sleep after coffee?” He didn’t want to piss Buck off.
“Honey, I haven’t survived in the medical world this long without learning how to fall asleep almost on command, coffee or no coffee.”
Joey reminded Sacha of Parker. A little irreverent and a tendency to get into trouble. Although, as far as Sacha knew, Joey had only been in trouble the one time; he hadn’t made a career out of it like Parker.
Miguel came back in the room—dressed, thank fuck, in coveralls with a Swanfeldt’s logo stitched on the left pocket. He waved again but kept heading toward the front door. “We’ve got a lot of tickets today. Not sure when your man will call it quits.” With that he was gone, and the house was noticeably quieter.
“Hard to believe,” Joey muttered, handing Sacha a steaming mug.
“What?” There were so many ways this conversation could go.
“Buck told me that when he first met Miguel, he came asking for a job—any job Buck would be willing to offer. He was,” Joey paused, searching for the right words, “dispirited, downtrodden, a shell of the man we saw today. That was three years ago. Whatever he’d been through, it took a while to recover from.” His gaze narrowed, and Sacha felt his stomach clench. Joey might act airy, but he was not a stupid man. “What brought you here this fine summer morning?”
The story came out about falling off the ladder. About going to get coffee and coming back with a new friend who’d pretty much swarmed his defenses without him realizing. He even told Joey about finding the postcards and books stashed in the wall.
Nodding and, thankfully, not interrupting, Joey listened and sipped his coffee. When Sacha was done with his tale, Joey grinned. “That is an awesome story. Did he find out anything about the people in the pictures?”
“Yeah. I hope you don’t mind; I invited them to your wedding. I figured the entire city is going to be there, you wouldn’t notice one little old lady and her nephew.”
“The more the merrier!”
Sacha rolled his eyes. The way he figured it, city officials were going to have to create a special holiday so all the people Joey invited would be able to attend.
“All right. So, Seth freaked out. And you think it’s because he’s afraid?”
“I know it’s because he’s afraid. From what little he’s said about his history… well, I don’t think there has ever been anyone permanent in his life except an aunt who died when he was at college.”
“And you want to be permanent?”
“Yeah.” Sacha did. Maybe it was quick after a lifetime of denying himself, but he wanted whatever was happening between them to continue.
“So you gotta prove you’re not going anywhere.”
“Yeah.”
Joey looked him right in the eyes. “There’s one obvious way to do that.”
Sacha stared back. “I don
’t think he would say yes. Frankly, I don’t think he’s the type to get married.”
Joey nodded. “There are a lot of ways to prove your intentions without a wedding ring. You could make a promise.”
A promise. A promise to Seth to be there, to stay. To the best of his ability, be as sure as the stars, the moon, and the sun. Sacha could do that. He leaned back against the couch, trying to think of the best way to lure Seth back out into the open.
“Okay, big guy, here’s what we’re going to do.”
Sacha narrowed his eyes. “We?” Joey had a way of taking control of a situation.
“I’m going to take a nap. I’ll set my alarm for a couple hours, and then we can work on your grand gesture.”
“Grand gesture?” A nap?
“Yeah, to tell Seth that, you know…” his voice dropped to a whisper, “you l-o-v-e him.”
Jesus fucking Christ, he did. “You’re killing me here.”
“Well, obviously, you need help. That’s what I’m here for.”
He found himself agreeing to a nap, since he hadn’t actually slept the night before, and to mulling over a “grand gesture.” It was Joey, after all, and some of his schemes were suspect, but this could actually be a good one. Leaning back against the arm of the couch, he allowed himself to drift to sleep. And consider what a grand gesture would look like.
Thirty-One
Seth
Seth slept like crap. When he woke, Parker, Zeke, and most especially Sacha were still gone. He called Adam, but his phone went straight to voicemail.
He needed his aunt. It was stupid, a grown man wanting to be comforted. She was dead, and thinking about her merely made the hollowness he was feeling all the more vast and unmanageable.
Even though he hadn’t run in months, Seth dug around for his running shoes and track pants. Ten minutes later he was out the door. What he was running from, he didn’t know.
He ended up at Adam and Micah’s house. Because he had nowhere else to go.
