Heart on the Run (4 page)

Chapter Three

Swirl.

Clink.

Swirl.

Clink.

Never drink alone, sweetie.

“
I’m not alone, Mom. Isn’t that what you always said? As long as you’re alive and kicking, no matter where you are, I’m not alone.” He raised the celebratory glass of Patrón to his lips and sipped. “Great news.”

Swirl. Clink.
Tequila on ice with a slice of jalapeno for spice…

Chaz stopped swirling and stared at the little ring of green, with a seed clinging to it, resting atop one of his ice cubes, just lying there, drenched in chilled liquor. Too many people didn’t bother getting acquainted with tequila. They gulped it in a single shot, holding their breath like a kid eating something disgusting.

Sip it like cognac, sweetie.

“
I know, Mom.”

Once, he’d ignored her cool headed advice, traded shots with wild abandon, when he was tired of pretending he didn’t know what he wanted and needed an excuse.

Sprocket.

“
Stupid name.” Turned out, just as he’d hoped, what the song said was true. Tequila did make your clothes fall off…and lead to things more wild, crazy, and fun than dancing on tables and starting fights.

Lethargic heat welled in a slow wave, his hands tensed then relaxed, fingertips tingling as though they remembered the feel of his skin…his hair…the heat and dampness of a body so pleasing…

“
Damn, Sprocket and his insufferably hot tattoos!” The glass hit the table, sloshing tequila over the rim onto the polished finish. Dermot was an asshole for doing this. Probably thought he was giving Chaz something great…

“
And it is a great opportunity.”

Too bad you’re too big a coward to pursue it.

“
I am not.”

Then call him, sweetie.

Chaz picked up the tequila and slammed it down, spitting the jalapeno ring back into the glass. His eyes watered and he sputtered. “Revolting.”

It was a good word. Applied to both the action he’d just taken and the choice he was forced to make. If he didn’t take this chance that Dermot had handed him, who knew when the next opportunity would come along? Liquid courage in place, he picked up the phone and thumbed the number four again.

It rang once, and in the interminable length of time it took before the second ring, Chaz had to fight off the urge to hang up a dozen times. His thoughts were so swift, so contradictory, so at odds with what he knew and wanted… Hanging up was the best option. The second ring came.

“
Sprocket…I need to ask a favor.” He tested the words…recognized their inevitable lameness.

The line rang a third time.

“
Please don’t answer,” Chaz whispered, dipping one finger into the tumbler and chasing an ice cube. “I can just leave a message…”

A fourth ring.

He deflated, exhaling a loud breath, feeling himself shrink to nothing in the leather armchair. A message…what to say…

So finally it’s just me and you…you know what to do
…

“
Uh… Sprocket, this is Charles. I mean Chaz. I…uh…” Damn it! He was always, always able to carry his end of a conversation! That was what damned cotillion had been about, all those years of twirling girls in puffy dresses and spiky shoes and making polite conversation. Inhaling deeply, he persevered. “I…Dermot and Xander asked me…I mean us… And well, you’ve seen my place. Xander is supposed to be talking to you… But anyway, I need to see your kitchen.”

He had barely disconnected the call when his phone rang. Chaz wished for another drink, actually considered refilling his glass before answering the phone.

Because you’ll live so much longer if you pickle your liver in alcohol, won’t you? Just like Uncle Rick, huh?

“
Hello?”

“
Why do you need to see my kitchen?”

“
To see if I can cook there.”

“
If you try just a little harder, you might make sense. Oh…my bad. You’re Charles Darwin Millsworth…maybe we should stick a number on there at the end…just because…you don’t have to make sense.”

“
I—” Taken aback at the attack, Chaz searched for words. “They want to have a party, for the employees. We’re supposed to host it, you and me, and I’ll cook, but you’ll have to do the decorating and—”

“
You’re kidding. I can’t host a party. Unless there are kegs involved. I can do kegs.”

“
No. A
real
thing. Not a frat boy thing.”

“
I’m not, and never have been, a frat boy, though they do throw some pretty fucking awesome parties, they just don’t know when to go home and keep calling up the morning after asking stupid things like…” He put on a lazy surfer drawl, not quite as slow and sweet as Chaz’s mom’s Southern belle routine, but definitely not his own rapid-fire tenor. “Bro, I was so totally wasted last night and I’m not wearing any pants…did anything happen I should know about?”

“
Ah hah ah.” Startled by his own laughter, Chaz sat upright. “I mean…”

“
Yeah,” Sprocket’s voice returned to normal…or a tense, hard form of what used to be his normal tone. “So what fraternity were you in again?”

“
I went to the CIA. I wasn’t in a fraternity.”

“
Oh, my bad again. I just confused you with the frat boys because…no wait…”

“
This isn’t about us, Sprocket.”

“
Is there someone else there?”
“No. I just meant… Xander’s your boss. Dermot’s my boss. They can’t host both the Craft Time staff and the
Alimentaire
staff in the upstairs apartment.”

“
And they just decided that you and I should do it? Like it isn’t midterms? Like I don’t have enough to do with studying and working full-time?”

“
I gave Dermot some menus…he really liked the sound of them.”

“
Congratulations.” The sincere sentiment emboldened Chaz.

“
And he wants me to do a tasting menu at the party. If the food is good… He’s going to let me menu plan the lunch specials on Tuesdays and Wednesdays starting in November.” It would mean switching his days off and assuming a lot more responsibility. He looked forward to the challenge with an eagerness that was almost embarrassing.

“
Dermot’s going to let you cook? In his restaurant? That is impressive.”

“
So I need to see your kitchen.”

“
No. We aren’t having a party at my place. I can’t.”

Chaz bit his lip and glanced around his apartment. “You’ve seen my place, Sprocket. I can’t invite everyone over here.”

“
Why not? It’s big enough and in a safe part of town. No parking issues.”

“
It’s…” How to explain that you didn’t want your boss to know that your monthly paycheck wouldn’t cover your rent? “Complicated,” he finished, staring at the marble statue of Paris his mother had sent him from her sojourn in the Greek isles the previous summer.

A soft huff of air reminded him of Sprocket’s endearing habit of laughing silently. “Chaz, with you, everything is complicated. Let me think about it. We’ll figure something out.”

***

“
So the guy that had you breaking out the fire whiskey last night called you today? Well, that’s good, right?”

Sprocket walked out of the bathroom into his bedroom. Mason was sprawled diagonally across the bed with his hands laced behind his head.

“
Eh…” Sprocket seesawed his hand before dropping the towel that hung around his waist and walking to his dresser naked. “You’d think. Unfortunately he didn’t call just to call. He needs our kitchen.” He pulled on his underwear then picked the towel up off the floor and tossed it on the bed next to his uniform of the day: jeans and a red button-down long-sleeve shirt.

Mason laughed as he hopped off the bed. “Does he plan to return it when he’s done with it?”

“
Ha ha, you’re a funny guy. Get your shoes on. I’m almost ready to go.” Sprocket tucked in his shirt before buttoning up his fly.

“
So,” Mason shouted from down the hall, “seriously, what’s he want to do in our kitchen?”

“
Not me,” Sprocket mumbled under his breath as he dropped to his knees and peered under the bed for his casual loafers. Louder, he responded to Mason, “Honestly I’m not sure. After I got over the shock that
the
Chaz was calling me on a Saturday of his own volition, and then the stroke when I realized that he’d left a message, then the heart attack when he actually answered when I called back, and the boner from hearing that damn husky voice whispering in my ear… Well, after that roller coaster ride of emotions, it all sounded like the Peanuts’ adults to me. You know, blah blah blaaah blah blah.” Sprocket drug out the words.

“
Damn, I hate when those Peanuts’ adults take over my audio abilities.” Mason stepped up in front of the kneeling Sprocket in the infamous missing loafers.

“
Really? I was gonna wear those today.”

Mason snorted. “Now you’re not. By the way, thanks for letting me borrow your wheels tonight. Luke says the part should be in on Monday, so the earliest I can get my car back is Tuesday.”

“
No problem. I’ll get someone from the store to drive me home. Technically today is my day off, but so help me, if Xander convinces Shawna to move the sewing display one more time, he won’t have to worry about dating a chef, I’ll flambé his ass all by myself.”

“
Kinky. That reminds me, we need to pick up more tequila.” Mason laughed.

On the drive to Craft Time, Sprocket explained what he thought Chaz meant about utilizing their kitchen.

“
So, he doesn’t just want the kitchen. He’s thinking of kidnapping the whole house?” Mason asked as he stopped at a four-way crossing.

“
I would say yes, well, minus the bedrooms. But definitely including your bathroom.” Since Sprocket had the master bedroom, he had a private bath, whereas Mason used the main one…well, most of the time.

“
Damn, that means I have to clean the toilet.” Mason exaggerated. One of the reasons living together worked for them was because they were both fairly clean guys. “I say do it.”

Sprocket blinked at his best friend. “Really?”

Mason shrugged while taking a right hand turn. “Sure, why not. It’s definitely big enough…”

“
Ahh—”

“
The house, I’m talking about,” Mason interrupted him. “And you love hanging with friends…
and
you’d have to spend lots of time with Chaz while planning this thing. Lots of time talking to him. Perhaps reminding him that friendship came before the orgasms.”

“
That man is…” Sprocket growled under his breath, not finishing his thought because he wasn’t sure what descriptive word he wanted to use that day. Aggravating? Yeah, Chaz was definitely that. Jerky? He could be put in that category also. Controlled…enigmatic…dispassionate… Yet, that wasn’t completely true. Sprocket had seen his passionate side, heard that sweet gasp of surprise when Sprocket touched him just right, witnessed Chaz’s beautiful face when he finally let go for a few moments and allowed Sprocket to take care of him.

Sprocket thoroughly believed that sex could just be sex, no strings attached, no bad feelings. It was the ultimate act between two bodies to forgo all the shit happening around them and bring some pleasure into their lives. Why shun it? But with Chaz, for those hours they’d been together, it had seemed that sex might just be more than that. It was like something clicked between them…their eyes met and Sprocket sank into the bottomless depths of Chaz’s twin blue oceans. And he was safe there, warm and happy.