Puzzle Me This (2 page)

Luke wanted to let it go. He couldn’t.

On Monday morning Luke called the
Examiner
and asked for the editor of the Entertainment section. “Hi. My name is Luke Schumaker. I’m trying to reach the person who designs your crossword puzzles, A. Ecrivain.”

“And why is that?”

Because they leave hidden messages for me
would make Luke sound like an utter loon. “I’m a game designer for City Shark Games, and I thought that maybe he or she would be interested in doing some work for us.” It was a lie, but Luke could probably talk his boss into it, if need be.

“Hmm. I can’t give out that information. But send me an e-mail and I’ll forward it to him. Or you can send a letter to the paper to the attention of ‘A. Ecrivain.’ Those get sent to him unopened. He often gets fan mail and reader suggestions.”

Him
. The crossword puzzle designer was a
him
. Luke felt a flush of hope again. Thing was a damned nuisance.

“Awesome. Thanks,” Luke said. “I’ll send a letter.”

Luke contemplated what to write. What if crossword puzzle man was really scary or hideous? The secret messages hadn’t been blatantly flirtatious but they weren’t
not
either. Finally Luke went with this:

“Dear A.,

I don’t know you but your puzzles have me dead curious. In fact, you’ve triggered the dreaded obsessive gamer in my soul. Can we meet for coffee? How about Diggits, 6 pm on Wed. the 20th?

Luke Schumaker”

Neutral ground and a tone that implied nothing beyond inquisitiveness. Filled with a heady anticipation, Luke mailed it.

Chapter 2

O
N
W
EDNESDAY
Luke worked through his day in a rush. In the afternoon he took a bath and dressed carefully—worn, tight jeans, hiking boots, and a soft purple Henley under an open gold-and-purple plaid flannel shirt.

Okay, maybe he was pushing the gay woodsy thing a bit far, but he thought it was hot. Anyway, the gold in the shirt set off his hair, and that was his finest asset. It was light honey-gold, stick-straight, and fell to his midback. He applied a glossy spray that made it shine.

He was feeling horny, actually, as if his body was expecting something a lot more intense than the casual coffee date his brain had in mind. His palms were damp with nerves and excitement. He couldn’t seem to help himself. He prayed he wasn’t in for a huge disappointment.

He arrived at Diggits at five, got a coffee, and took a seat. He opened up his laptop and surfed the web. He nervously studied everyone who came in the door. No one looked his way.

By six fifteen, Luke figured he’d been stood up. By six forty-five he was sure of it.

It was probably for the best. There was no way the reality could ever have lived up to his stupid romantic ideas. The game was over.

Luke went up to the counter to drop a tip in the jar and saw an envelope propped up against it. On the front was scrawled “Luke Schumaker.”

“Hey!” Luke grabbed the attention of the blue-haired barista. “Do you know who left this here?”

Jazzy looked at it and shrugged. “No idea. But it’s been sitting there since this morning. Is that you?”

Luke nodded, his mouth dry.

“Good. It would have gotten tossed by closing time.”

Luke took the envelope and went back to his abandoned seat. He slowly took off his coat. Inside the envelope was a crossword puzzle. It was marked on grid paper with the clues hand-written on the left, and at the bottom, it was signed “A. Ecrivain.” This must be how his admirer submitted puzzles to the paper. But this one, Luke knew, was just for him.

Fucking awesome.

With a dizzying sense of anticipation, Luke began working the puzzle.

1 across – A measure _ _ _ _

10 across – Where Sherlock lives minus two

 _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

11 down – This evening _ _ _ _ _ _ _

21 across – Be-, Out-, or In- _ _ _ _

21 down – ___ the hill _ _ _ _

23 across
–
Without _ _ _ _

25 across
–
Mobile on Mars _ _ _ _ _

[Unit twenty-one B tonight. Come over sans Rover.]

Luke tossed down his pencil and stared at the words with delight. He laughed aloud. “Holy shit.”

“You’re having way too much fun over there,” Jazzy said dryly. “I may have to call the vice squad.” But she smiled.

Luke felt positively giddy. He stuffed his pen back into his laptop case and his arms into his coat. “Hey, make me a coffee to go, will ya?”

“I live. To serve,” Jazzy said robotically.

He waited while she made it and took it from her with a wink. “Hot date,” he said.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Jazzy gave him a wary look. “Which leaves out, basically, farm animals.”

“You’re baaaad,” Luke said, mimicking a goat.

Jazzy laughed. Luke walked on air all the way to his car.

L
UKE
stood outside unit 21. It was the end unit in the complex. Apartment B was downstairs on the right and had a perfect view of the trail up Henneman Hill. Luke knew in his bones this was it. And he had a feeling he knew who lived here. He hesitated for a long moment, trying to work up his nerve and giving himself a silent lecture on how this was just a friendly thing, and really, it
didn’t matter.
It didn’t matter at all, dammit.

He knocked on the door.

The door opened, pulling back slowly. At the door was the guy in the wheelchair Luke had seen from his window. He was… wow… still a librarian-type close-up but so much cuter than he’d looked from afar. He appeared to be around Luke’s age, and his eyes were big, brown, and intelligent behind the glasses.

Luke’s heart flopped over in his chest like Trevor collapsing after a tiring run. It felt suspiciously like offering up his belly in surrender.

He held out the paper cup. “Hi. I picked you up a two percent latte, unflavored. I figured it was the least likely to offend or cause a deadly allergic reaction.”

The man reached for the cup, then dropped his hand with a blush. “I’d better wheel myself inside before I take it. Would you like to come in?”

Gee, way to go Luke. First thing you do is offer a guy who needs both hands to wheel his chair a steaming hot beverage.

“Sure,” Luke said, feeling like an idiot.

“I’m Alex Shaw, by the way.” The man held out a hand and gave him a smile.

“Luke Schumaker. I, uh, guess you already knew that.”

Alex’s hand was a bit calloused. His grip was nice, firm but with soft skin. His palm was a little bit damp like Luke’s was. Luke didn’t let go at once, and neither did Alex. Alex’s eyes looked steadily into his. They were open and friendly but shy. Luke found himself getting warm.

“Come on in,” Alex repeated, dropping his hand.

“Thanks,” Luke said, thinking,
Dear Lord, I am way too worked up over this.

Alex wheeled himself into the living room and Luke followed. The room was neat and homey, with a canvas-covered couch, a navy plaid recliner, and a large TV. A round, knotty pine dining room table with four chairs and navy cushions sat in the dining nook. A desk loomed in front of a window—a window that overlooked the trail up Henneman Hill. Every inch of the walls was covered with bookcases.

Alex stopped near the couch. Luke handed him the coffee with a sheepish smile. Feeling ridiculously anxious, he went to look out the window by the desk.

“It’s all making sense to me now,” Luke teased.

“Yes, you’ve found me. Your stalker. I hope I didn’t freak you out too badly.”

Luke shrugged. “It’s been fun.”

“I noticed you walking your dog—well, obviously. I wasn’t sure how to….” Alex seemed flustered. “What’s his name? Your dog.”

“Trevor.”

“Ah. It looks fun, taking a hike in the mornings. Do you go all the way to the top?”

Yeah, I like to top
, almost, horrifyingly, came out of Luke’s mouth. But Alex didn’t know his sense of humor yet, and that would be bad. Luke cleared his throat. “Yeah. It’s a nice view.”

“I’m sure. Three miles a day—that’s a decent workout.”

Luke wanted to ask if Alex ever hiked, but obviously not. And then he wanted to say something about working out, but that felt like a minefield, too. God, when had he ever been this tongue-tied?

Alex seemed to read his mind. “I hike sometimes. There’re handicap-accessible trails, and I have a fat-tire chair for rugged terrain. I like getting out.”

“That’s great,” Luke said, oh so brilliantly. Sheesh, he was going down in flames.

“I asked Mrs. Miller about you, and she said you were a game designer and that you worked from home. So I thought the puzzles would be an… interesting way to introduce myself.”

“I wouldn’t call it ‘interesting’,” Luke said.

“Oh?” Alex looked disappointed.

“Outrageous, maybe. Strange—in a good way. Insane. Clever. Cool. Classy. Scary, a bit. Possibly playful. Still thinking about that one.”
Romantic
, Luke added in his head.
Hot.

“That’s… a lot of adjectives.”

“I’m generous that way. I buy adjectives in bulk from Amazon, so I can afford to be.” Luke inwardly cheered that his brain had finally decided to show up for this conversation. “What would you have done if I didn’t like crossword puzzles?”

“Guess I’d resort to bumping into you in the parking lot. Not nearly as… classy though.”

Luke laughed. “I see we have a winner from the adjectives list.” Feeling a bit more comfortable, he walked to the sofa but hesitated.

Alex grimaced. “Geez. Sorry. I haven’t even asked you to sit down. Would you like to take off your coat?”

Luke did. He unzipped his jacket and pulled it off, leaning over to place it neatly on the end of the couch. Mrs. Schumaker hadn’t raised no hoodlums.

So far, Alex had acted casual, like it was all just a friendly thing. But there was no mistaking the hunger Luke caught on Alex’s face as he straightened up. Luke’s body responded immediately with a warm, lazy roll in his lower abdomen. He smoothed down the sides of his flannel shirt, making sure it was open enough to offer a decent view of his lean, Henley-clad torso and the worn, snug denim at his crotch. That denim was getting a little snugger even now. He took his time sitting down. By then, Alex was looking studiously down at the Diggits cup in his hand, a light-pink flush on his cheeks. It gave Luke a chance to stare at him unobserved.

Alex had probably been quite the twink in his teens, but he looked to be in his late twenties now and he was a mature man. Though he was slim, he had broad shoulders—very broad—and a long, solid torso. His upper body looked quite fit under his soft red chamois shirt. Luke’s eyes glanced toward a set of free weights in the corner of the room. They weren’t dust-covered, like his own. Alex definitely worked out. He was wearing jeans over slim hips and had legs that were long and too thin compared to the rest of him.

The cherry red of his shirt looked really good against his pale skin and his dark-brown hair. He wore bangs, the rest of his hair falling to his shoulders. It was a young look, but his heart-shaped face was so boyishly cute that it worked on him. He had a shadow of stubble on his upper lip and the tip of his chin, but the rest was baby smooth. His lips were full and wide, the upper one with a sexy curve. But his best feature was behind those glasses: big brown eyes with long, thick lashes.

Luke had always been an eye man, and Alex’s eyes were the kind that did things to Luke’s nether regions when they looked straight at him, especially when they held the desire he’d seen a moment ago. As fleeting as it had been, it had still made Luke want things that were in no way platonic, or even possible without some rigging, Astroglide, and an on-site physician.

“Is that what you do for a living? Design crossword puzzles?”

Alex nodded, smiling. “I do a daily for ten papers and a Sunday for three others. I also do puzzles for Dell—cryptograms and logic puzzles mostly. None of it pays much, really, but altogether I scrape by.”

“That’s epic.” Alex grinned. “I know lots of computer game designers, but I’ve never met a pencil puzzle type.”

Alex gave a forbearing sigh. “Yes, we Luddites are a dying breed. I think I’m the only crossword puzzle designer on the planet who’s under sixty. Who wants to do a cryptogram when you can shoot aliens with a joystick?”

“Me. Or I should say, I like them all. There’s a simplicity to a crossword, kind of like cozying up on a rainy day with Agatha Christie. Not the woman, of course. She’d be a bit skeletal by now. But one of her books.”

“Yeah.” Alex’s smile was wide and genuine. “I feel that way about text adventures—you know—‘Go north’, ‘There’s a castle in front of you. The guard calls, ‘Halt!’.’’ Now games have so many high-end graphics that it’s easy to lose sight of the core fun.”

“That’s true. Every once in a while I still like to play a text adventure. Honestly, I envy you. You design a puzzle and it’s out within days. It must be nice not having to work with a team of thirty people for two years just to get something published.”

“Does it really take two years?” Alex asked, curious. “I’d like to hear about it.”

So they talked shop. Luke talked about the process of game design and what it was like working with artists, voice-over actors, deadlines, and producers. Alex talked about how many puzzles he had to crank out in a week just to keep up with bills, about how he’d gotten started, and where he got his inspiration.

Luke made Alex laugh. Often. He looked really, really good when he laughed. The word that came to mind was
pure
, like joy or a ray of sunshine. Though where a thought that dorky and romantic had come from, Luke wasn’t sure.

When Alex stifled a yawn, Luke checked his phone and realized that it was after eleven. He finished off the beer Alex had offered him and set it on the end table. “God, you greedy bastard,” he joked. “You kept me here for four hours. I should go so you can get some sleep.”