by E M Lindsey
“And you want me to help with it?” he asked, unable to hide the disbelief in his tone.
“It’s easy,” Collin promised him, though his smile was a little deceiving.
They walked to a set-up under a metal awning, and Lorenzo couldn’t make heads or tails out of it. There were jars, silicon molds, and buckets of things like flowers and small plastic goats and massive tubes of paint or food coloring.
“I’ve got a blend here all prepped, we just need to add fragrance, color, then get them into molds. I thought you might enjoy the clear ones. They’re my allergen free,” Collin said, and pointed to the end of the table.
Lorenzo blinked at him. “…okay?”
Collin laughed again and shook his head, reaching for a bucket of the little plastic goats. “Just stick one of these at the bottom, pour from that jar there, and let them set. Easy as that. Also don’t forget gloves, because the jars are bloody hot.”
Lorenzo noticed the thick gloves at the end of the table, so he slipped them on, then shook the bin of goats. “He really is a local celebrity, isn’t he?” Lorenzo asked when he realized all the plastic goats were missing a leg.
Collin snorted, but he looked a little sad. “Trying for some better PR. Sorry little sod’s made a name for himself and not in the way I’d hoped. I think he’s acting out, and Max reckons I’m being a bit of an idiot about the whole thing and Robert’s just acting out his nature.”
Lorenzo found the idea of headbutting dicks as a goat’s nature to be somewhat debatable, but he couldn’t help but admit the little furry creature with his floppy ears and missing eye and three legs had an adorable appeal. “I’m not the only one he’s gone after though.”
Collin shook his head. “One name on a long list, mate. But doesn’t mean you’re not special.”
Lorenzo began to place the goats in the molds, setting them upright and waiting for Collin to nod. “I’m not sure I want to be special in that way.”
With a snort, Collin began to swirl marbled waves of color into a white mix, then he gingerly tipped the mixture into hearts. “I’m just glad he didn’t scare you off.”
Lorenzo shrugged before he grabbed the jar off a hotplate, wincing as the heat seeped through the gloves, then he started to pour. It was harder than it looked, and he knew his technique was sloppy, but he didn’t spill too much over. “I’m just surprised you wanted me back. I’m definitely not cut out for farming.”
“Most of us aren’t,” Collin said with a wink. “Max would rather die than have to deal with most of this, but he’s got his garage and his cars.”
Lorenzo loved the way Collin said garage—gah-roge. It made him grin as he filled the second set of molds. “You must adore him.”
“I do. Both of them—and who’d have ever known,” Collin said quietly. “You make any progress with your…whatever it was?”
Lorenzo had very carefully avoided telling Collin anything personal. Not just to keep his own business private, but it wasn’t his place to talk about Wilder without him knowing. “I think so.”
“You’re smiling more today.” Collin set his mixture aside, then went under the table for a second. “You want to make something for him?”
Lorenzo’s mouth dropped open to deny that there was anyone, but he realized Collin hadn’t asked specifics about who it was. He was just being kind. “Yeah, that might be nice.”
Collin beckoned him over, then lifted up a small bin that was filled with tiny, brown bottles. “I have nearly every scent you can think of—I assume you want to avoid baked goods?”
Lorenzo flushed hotly and hoped it didn’t show on his face. “Someone told you?”
“People take notice when a man like Wilder starts smiling that way for the first time since he moved here,” Collin told him quietly. “For what it’s worth, everyone appreciates it.”
Lorenzo thought about Birdie, and the protective glint in his eyes that said he’d gladly run Lorenzo off if he had the chance, and he shook his head. “Not everyone.”
“They will.” Collin’s voice held a note of finality, and his fingers pawed through the bin until he selected a larger bottle with a white label reading Basil. “It’ll make him think of you,” Collin said with a chuckle.
“It’ll make him smell like a pizza,” Lorenzo countered, and he pulled the cap off and waved it under his nose. It was surprisingly subtle, and not as much like a pasta dish as he thought it might be, and oddly, he kind of liked the idea that Wilder would have something so distinct.
“Is that a yes?” Collin asked.
Lorenzo sighed, then picked out the goat from the bucket. “With one of these?”
Collin laughed again. “It’s a goat’s milk soap—he won’t see it until he finishes the bar.”
“So, an extra surprise,” Lorenzo said.
Collin nodded, then dug under his table and came out with another little bin. “You can also leave him a note. It normally takes people about three months to go through a full bar—so anything you might want him to know in the future?”
It was a dangerous question, because Lorenzo had never felt steady enough with anyone to promise anything in three months. And yet…
He picked up one of the small scrolls, the little felt tipped pen, and the jar that would go right alongside the miniature Robert.
“You know what you’re going to say?” Collin asked.
Lorenzo smiled down at the empty paper. “Yeah. I think I do.”
Lorenzo was exhausted, a little sunbaked, and more relaxed than he’d ever been when he finally got back to the Manor. He and Collin had finished off the day making a few extra soaps for Jayden and Raphael, and Lorenzo carried the bag inside, frowning when he found the front desk still empty.
He hesitated at the entrance, then stepped in and peered around the corner and found Jayden in his empty salon chair, tapping away on his phone and spinning in a circle. He came to a sudden halt when he saw Lorenzo there, and shot him a sheepish smile.
“No appointments. You in the mood for a style?”
Lorenzo shook his head with a faint grin. “Ah, not tonight. I just got back from Collin’s, and I probably smell nasty.”
“You smell like essential oil,” Jayden said.
“Well, we made soap.” He fished the two bars out of the bag that were for him. “He said you wanted lavender.”
Jayden clutched them to his nose and breathed in. “God, these are the best. What else do you have?”
“Oh. Some Epsom salt and goat milk cubes for Raphael. Is he off today?”
Jayden’s eyes darkened. “Yes. Sick day.”
“Is everything okay?”
Jayden shook his head. “Sometimes he just has bad days. If you want, you can leave them on his desk. He’ll be back by Thursday.”
Lorenzo felt a spike of worry for his friend, but Jayden seemed more protective than concerned, so Lorenzo nodded and headed back out to the front. He left the cubes by the keyboard and scratched out a little note, then went upstairs so he could shower off and wait for Wilder to text him.
He’d been so busy, he hadn’t noticed the lack of activity on his phone—except to note that it had been nearly a week now that he’d been in Cherry Creek and not even his siblings had checked up on him. But it didn’t feel as empty or hollow when he didn’t find messages from Wilder, because in spite of his anxiety, he knew that Wilder still wanted him.
He hadn’t changed his mind in the last six hours.
They were fine.
Wilder: I’m about to close up. Did you want to get together?
Lorenzo: Come over?
Wilder: Yes. I’ll bring dinner this time.
Lorenzo held his phone close to his chest, breathed out, then hurried for the shower and didn’t bother to put himself together beyond sweats and a t-shirt. His socks slid across the floor when he heard the soft knocking, and he managed to catch himself just before he opened the apartment and got a good look at Wilder’s grinning face.
“Bad time?�
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Lorenzo rolled his eyes as he stepped back to let him in. “Slippery floors.” He shut the door, then grabbed Wilder and crowded him against the wood, kissing him thoroughly. “How was your day?”
“Not as good as this,” Wilder said with a sigh. He curled his hand around the back of Lorenzo’s neck and licked into his mouth before pulling away with a smacking peck to pouting lips. “I brought something from Enzo’s food truck. I wanted to bring something from the Tavern—but I thought you might want to talk to Rose first.”
Lorenzo glanced away. “It’s not that I don’t trust them…”
“I get it,” Wilder said quietly. “I know it isn’t the same, but I know what food restrictions are like. I’ve gotten a concussion because of too much salt. The vertigo was awful, and I fell down stairs all because someone lied and said something was made without salt when they thought I was just being picky.”
Lorenzo lifted the hand not weighted down by the to-go bag and kissed his palm. “I’ll talk to her.”
It was worth it to see Wilder’s smile like that—soft and relieved and hopeful. He pulled him into the living room and onto the stiff sofa cushions that had softened a bit after he’d spent an entire day there nursing his bruised balls. The pain was a lot less, but part of him wondered if it had to do with the fact that everything about him just felt so damn much better.
Either way, he didn’t care.
“TV?” he asked, reaching for the remote.
Wilder shook his head. “Food. Then I thought maybe we’d go out and take a walk or something. Stargaze?”
It was maybe the most romantic thing anyone had ever suggested, and Lorenzo wasn’t quite sure he was ready to say yes—but he knew he wasn’t going to say no. “Whatever you want.”
Wilder looked at him for a long moment, his face unreadable, then he dug the food out and they sat in an oddly comfortable silence as they ate. They played footsie under the table, and bumped each other with their elbows because Wilder was left-handed, and Lorenzo was right. And it felt like the most domestic thing in the world.
He could see it—suddenly and surprisingly—a future ahead of him that made no sense for the man he was, but would make perfect sense for the man he could be. His heart raced a little, but he didn’t want to run from it.
“I made soap today,” he blurted.
Wilder blinked, then turned to face him. “Did you say you made soap?”
“With Collin. I…made you one. It’s stupid, but…”
Wilder shoved his plate on the table and took Lorenzo’s from his hands. “Show me.”
He rose, obeying like he was made to do it, and he hurried to the kitchen counter to grab the bag. The oils from the soap had seeped into the paper, making it dark in patches, and he felt a little embarrassed at how ill packaged it was. Wilder deserved better things—beautiful things, but Wilder took it from him like it meant everything.
He spilled the soap out into in his hands and turned it over. It had been poured into the mold that was meant to look like a geode—with bright green clear soap in jagged edges on the side, and a sort of soft, opaque-grey in an oval for the rest.
Wilder dragged his thumb over the sharper edges, then lifted the bar to his nose and sniffed it. “What is that? It’s familiar.”
“Basil,” Lorenzo said, sitting down and running a hand through his hair. He stared at his feet and sighed. “Collin thought it would remind you of me. Uh…and I thought it might smell like a pizza.”
Wilder laughed and gently set the soap down before taking Lorenzo’s face between both hands. “It doesn’t smell like pizza. I love it.”
His words were profound, gutting—but in the best way. He had nothing to say, so instead, he pulled Wilder in by his wrists and kissed him, slow and deep. “Thank you,” he murmured, knowing Wilder probably wouldn’t understand him, but hoping he felt it anyway.
Wilder, in response, only kissed him harder.
Lorenzo was surprised at himself for being the one to break the kiss, but the idea of taking a walk was appealing. Wilder didn’t seem to mind as they put shoes back on, and Lorenzo breathed out a heavy sigh as the cooler night breeze wafted across their skin. It was a balm after the warm day in the sun, and he enjoyed the juxtaposition of heat in Wilder’s hand that sat comfortably in his.
“I did a lot of walking around when I first moved here,” Wilder said as they turned a corner near a hiking path. “Theo told me one of the best things around here were all the little hidden creeks. The main one behind the bookshop is Cherry Creek. All the locals fish there and picnic, but it branches out into these little isolated brooks.”
“It sounds…” Idyllic? Romantic? Storybook? The words all felt a bit too alien to him. He’d grown up in the hustle and bustle of a busy California city—and even after they were able to move away to quieter, more posh areas, there was hardly any rest.
Wilder squeezed his hand gently as they took the little hiking path through the dark canopy of trees, and his other hand brought out his phone to use as a flashlight. “I never did ask if you’re into, you know, nature.”
Lorenzo laughed softly under his breath and tugged on his lover’s hand. “Yes and no. I don’t actively seek camping, but I like this.”
Wilder grinned at him, but said nothing more until they came to a clearing in the trees, separated by a four foot, flowing brook that couldn’t have been more than six inches deep. Even in the moonlight, Lorenzo could see the crystal-clear water flowing around and over smoothed boulders.
The shore was rocky, but there were a few fallen logs that seemed damp, but not soaked. He let Wilder take the lead, and they sat on the mossy edge, and he decided he couldn’t care about his discomfort, even if he wanted to.
“Well?” Wilder asked after a beat.
Lorenzo tipped his head up. The trees were so thick, there were only small bursts of sky, lit by stars, and a faint glow from the nearly full moon. “Not what I expected.”
“In a good way?”
At that, Lorenzo turned his head, then licked his lips. “In the best way.” He let the real meaning sink in, watched it as Wilder’s cheeks darkened enough to see even in the dim light.
His lips parted in a sigh, then he leaned in, and Lorenzo met him in a kiss. “You’re addictive.”
“Mm.” Lorenzo smiled, then pulled back and shuffled closer. “I could say the same about you. You make me want things I never expected.”
Dropping his head down onto Lorenzo’s shoulder, Wilder breathed out with a small, contented hum. “I’m glad you decided to stay. When I asked you,” he stopped, his body a little rigid with tension.
“What?” Lorenzo pushed.
Wilder sat back up, the look on his face almost pleading. “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way.”
Lorenzo waited for pain to sink in—for the blow to hit his self-esteem, but it didn’t. There was just a quiet resignation and maybe a little amusement. “You didn’t like me then.”
“Well, I thought you were nice to look at,” Wilder told him, his eyes gleaming, “but no.”
“You felt sorry for me,” Lorenzo added.
At that, Wilder’s eyes rolled upward. “You were kind of asking for it. But it didn’t take me longer than a couple of minutes to see the strong, worthy man underneath all that disaster.”
Lorenzo couldn’t help his laugh, the feeling of it a little bit wild, and yet impossibly steady. He felt grounded and happy, and it was just so damn unexpected. “I’m glad you gave me a chance.”
“I’m glad you let me,” Wilder told him.
They kissed again, long and slow, as they sat there on the mossy log, and Lorenzo did little more than accept how absolutely perfect the moment was.
Chapter Fourteen
Wilder had been looking forward to the fire repair for months, but it felt almost like a curse now that it was interfering with what little time he had to spare. The fire had been devastating, but more than that, it had been terrifying. A series of mist
akes—like the alarm itself having been broken, but the inspector had missed it before he moved in, and the faulty wiring in the walls that no one had noticed long before he took over.
Someone had called the fire department when they saw smoke billowing out of the downstairs window, and Wilder had nearly slept through it all. And likely wouldn’t have survived, had it not been for Fitz breaking the door down and dragging him from his bed. He lost nearly everything, but he walked away relatively unscathed and only suffered nightmares for a few months—and the occasional panic when he burned something in the kitchen.
Levi had taken it poorly. It came across as anger, but James had taken him aside one afternoon to explain that Levi didn’t deal with guilt well. He blamed himself for the wiring, for the broken alarm, and he didn’t quite know how to face Wilder after that. Things eventually settled though, and Wilder lived with the half-repair gladly when the bakery was back up and running, and Levi no longer bit his head off every time they crossed paths.
Now, halfway through his day, Wilder found himself annoyed that his time for prep was being taken up by having to move shit around for the contractors. But he was glad it was finally happening. Levi, James, and Theo showed up to help him get all of his stuff moved into the second bedroom, and he could feel the tension radiating off Levi in waves as that bedroom had been his for most of his life.
But he did it with a smile—a look of sad nostalgia in his eyes, but he didn’t complain once—even at the state of the wall. Wilder knew if the fire had been worse, if it had ruined the structure, Levi would have been devastated. But Fitz and his team were good at what they did.
This was the tough part—so damn many months later and still dealing with it. At the time, there had been a sort of crushing loneliness because in spite of the community rallying around him, at night he laid in a strange bed alone, and it was the first time in so long he wanted some real comfort.
