The Square Peg (16 page)

make their delicate little bums sore.”

Trust Shane to put it in simple, crude terms. “Okay, good. What else?”

“We’re going to need long seats against the walls for the snug, but we can shake it

up a bit.” Shane tapped his finger against a picture of a booth seat, upholstered in black,

and with a pale wood surround. “Comfortable, yeah, little bit posh, but not stuffy. We

can use these smaller bench seats and break them up with tables set between them, little

rectangular ones, built-in, so people can put their drinks down beside them, then have

lower tables in front of them, instead of the more usual higher ones. Make them feel like

they’re at home—but better.”

“That sounds good,” Ben agreed, ready to go along with anything within reason

that got Shane involved and eager. “I’m happy to bid on the bench seats. But we’d have

to custommake the dividing tables, and that could be expensive.”

The Square Peg

103

“Nah.” Shane patted his arm reassuringly. “You’re not the only one who knows

someone. Charlie’s brother’s a carpenter, and he could knock them up for us in a day or

two, cheap as chips.”

A wave of happiness swept over Ben. He could’ve been in the office, breathing in

dry, stale air and making numbers dance. And yes, he enjoyed that, but it was so

fucking familiar. Instead, he was out here, preparing to do battle for some tables and

chairs, and, if they didn’t go over budget, an industrial-sized deep fat fryer and freezer

to put in his bar. No, their bar.

When it came to his personal life, that was in flux too. He might wish Shane didn’t

affect him so strongly, but though the intensity of his response to Shane disturbed him

as much as it aroused him, he’d take it over the tepid dissatisfaction left in the wake of

his breakup with Jenson.

Things seemed to be working out. It was a heady realization that no one would

call his life—or him—boring now.

“You’re sure you want them?” he asked Shane, who nodded. “Then I’ll get them

for you no matter how high we have to go.”

Shane raised his eyebrows, a speculative gleam in his eyes. “Well, aren’t you in a

determined mood.”

“I can’t help it,” Ben admitted and threw himself into the bidding wholeheartedly.

They ended up getting good deals on the chairs and a fantastic one on the deep

fryer—maybe a side effect of the fact that people were struggling to eat healthier these

days, maybe it would end up being a waste in the long run because no one would order

mozzarella sticks or boneless chicken wings, but in the heat of the moment, Ben

couldn’t bring himself to worry for more than a fleeting second. They didn’t get quite as

good a deal on the large freezer that would let them store bulk purchases, but it was

fair, certainly.

By the time the lot of bench seats was offered, Ben was riding high and starting to

suspect he would be willing to pay far more for the seats than they were actually worth.

104

Jane Davitt & Alexa Snow

It felt like an opportunity to prove something to Shane. Not that he needed to prove

anything—he knew that intellectually—but on an emotional level, in his gut, it felt

different.

“Six,” he said, lifting his bid paddle. It reminded him of being a little kid in first

grade and having to raise his hand to ask permission to go to the bathroom.

“Seven,” said a woman with thick streaks of blonde in her light brown hair. She’d

been one of the most persistent bidders all night, and focusing on some of the same

stuff they were interested in. She was not, Ben decided, going to get Shane’s benches,

even if he had to spend a fortune on them.

Well, there was no way he was going to spend a fortune, because he didn’t have

one.

“Eight.” Ben tried to sound bored, as if he didn’t care whether he won or not. He

had no idea if that might actually be an effective way of winning.

“Nine!” the woman snapped before the auctioneer had time to open his mouth.

Considering the speed at which he rattled out his words, that was quite an

achievement. Ben noticed she was frowning, though. A man he worked with got that

identical look on his face when he was doing sums in his head.

She’s reached her limit, he realized with a flash of pure glee that, in the heat of the

moment, was unaccompanied by guilt. He raised his paddle with a casual lack of

urgency, nodded in answer to the auctioneer asking if he’d go to a thousand, and a few

seconds later, the hammer came down, and he owned a job lot of fifteen bench seats.

The echo of its strike against wood had barely faded when Ben turned to Shane.

“We did it! We—”

He got no further than that. Shane, grinning, clasped Ben’s face, drew him closer,

and planted an exuberant kiss on his mouth, effectively silencing Ben.

“Good one. You handled that like a pro,” Shane said approvingly and settled back

in his chair. Ben glanced around, his face burning, but no one seemed to care about the

The Square Peg

105

kiss, their attention on a frankly hideous crystal chandelier that was being displayed on

the small stage.

He felt shaken, and that was stupid. It had been a celebration of their small

victory, that was all, as unthinking as the hugs soccer players exchanged after scoring a

goal, jumping on each other, boisterous as puppies, tangled in a heap. It shouldn’t have

left him feeling some major shift in their relationship had occurred. It had surprised him

because Jenson would never have done that. Not in public and not in private either.

Jenson had kissed Ben on the cheek as a greeting, on the mouth during sex, but an

emphatic, openly affectionate kiss like that…? No.

“We’ve finished bidding now, right?” Shane asked, keeping his voice

considerately low. “Just need to handle the paperwork.”

Ben nodded, still mute, and once the chandelier had been sold, they worked their

way to the end of the row and went to pay for their items and arrange delivery. That

took long enough that by the time they were back at the car, Ben had persuaded himself

to forget about the kiss. He’d have put money on Shane forgetting it seconds after it

happened.

“We lucked out with that fryer,” he said as he started up the car. “I wouldn’t have

been surprised if it went for twice what we paid.”

“Now we have to find someone who can use the thing.” Shane put on his seat belt

without comment this time. “Unless you have skills I’m unaware of? A history as a

short-order cook?”

“Sadly, no. I learned to cook when I was pretty young, but never graduated from

the basics. The job market’s not that great right now. I’m sure we can find someone.

There’s that culinary arts department in Westwood University. They might have

recommendations.”

“Because that’s what we need: some student still wet behind the ears,” Shane said.

“Vin’s young,” Ben protested. “And you couldn’t ask for a harder worker.”

106

Jane Davitt & Alexa Snow

Shane nodded. “I’m not saying a word against Vincent. I just think we’d be better

off with someone a bit more experienced than you’re suggesting.”

Sometimes it seemed as if Shane disagreed with him just for the sake of

disagreeing. Ben took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay. It’s your call.”

He’d driven about a mile when Shane said casually, “So I was thinking, and

you’re right—white’s a crap color for the walls. I’m seeing kind of deep, buttery yellow

for the bar and a bronze for the snug. Just popped into my head when I saw the

furniture. What do you think?”

“I’ve seen a range of those metallic paints and they can look spectacular, but

they’re expensive,” Ben said, trying for neutral as he pictured the colors. They’d be an

improvement on whatever the hell the color was now—hard to tell under the

accumulated grime—but anything would be. He just couldn’t get over Shane

suggesting something as sophisticated as bronze. Maybe he’d dated an interior

designer, and something other than the designer had rubbed off on him.

Okay, now he was being bitchy.

“We could price it up first or buy a small can and see what it looked like?”

“Sure.” Shane drummed his fingers against his thighs, back to the bored drawl.

“Sounds like a plan.”

It didn’t take a genius to work out that paint wasn’t uppermost in Shane’s mind.

Ben took advantage of a quiet stretch of road and risked a quick sideways glance.

Shane’s jaw was set in a way he was beginning to recognize meant trouble, the shadow

of stubble along it making him wonder how it would feel to kiss Shane. He’d end up

with chafed skin, but it’d be worth it. He wanted to run his palm over that stubble-

rough jaw and feel the rasp of hair, rough, male, so very Shane.

“If I ask why you can’t pick a mood and stick to it, will you remember I’m driving

and punching me isn’t in your best interests?”

The Square Peg

107

From the corner of his eye, he saw Shane stiffen, then relax, sighing as if he’d been

holding on to that breath for a while. “Yeah, I’m a fucking pain in the arse today, aren’t

I? Sorry. If it helps, when we stop, you can punch me if you want.”

“You know that’s not what I want.”

“Do I?” Shane shrugged. “Don’t want to punch me, don’t want to kiss me…

Running out of options here, Benedict.”

“That’s insane.” He was going too fast, but aggravation seemed to require it. Ben

eased off the gas to prove to himself he was in control here. “Why are my choices fight

or fuck? Can’t we just be…” He trailed off, the banality of the obvious third choice

striking him.

Shane filled in the blank without any trouble at all. “Friends? Doubt it. Not as if

we’ve got a lot in common, is it?”

“I don’t know,” Ben said honestly. “I think we’ve spent so much time arguing that

it’s hard to tell. It seemed as if…when we… We had enough in common there.”

“You can’t even say it.” Shane sounded frustrated, and it was hard to blame him.

“You fucked the hell out of me, and yeah, I liked it. Thought maybe you were the one

who didn’t like it, what with the way you ran out of there as soon as you got off.”

God, it was too hard to have this conversation and drive at the same time. Ben

pulled the car over onto the side of the road, half on the grass. There wasn’t a lot of

traffic, but getting rear-ended in the middle of it wasn’t going to make this discussion

any easier. He put the car in park, considered leaving it running, and shut it off

anyway.

“Doesn’t look like Lover’s Lane,” Shane commented, glancing out the window at

the trees.

“Don’t do that,” Ben said. “This is hard enough. I know it’s…I don’t know…easy

for you or whatever, but it’s not for me.”

“Sorry.” Shane looked abashed.

108

Jane Davitt & Alexa Snow

“Don’t be sorry. Just let me figure this out. I want—this. You. I can’t totally explain

it, and I don’t like it.” Obviously he couldn’t even begin to explain it. “I was dating this

guy once, and he had kind of a temper. As far as I know, he never hit anyone. He never

hit me. But some stupid little thing would set him off, and he’d yell, and that was the

end of it for me.”

“What we did,” Shane said carefully, “was different. You know that, yeah?”

“I know.” Ben turned in his seat so he could look at Shane. “I wasn’t expecting it.”

“I’d make a joke about the Spanish Inquisition, but you’d probably think I was

nuts.”

“Monty Python,” Ben said impatiently. “I like British shows. We’ve got that much

in common too.”

“Should make a list.”

“Do you ever stop being like this? Ever?”

“Now you’re yelling.” Shane unfastened his seat belt and turned to face Ben as

much as he could in the tight space. “It’s the way I am, love. I don’t let stuff show.

You’ve seen more of me than most—and no, I’m not talking about my bare arse. If you

think that’s not keeping me awake at night, you’d be wrong.”

The seat belt was cutting into his chest. Ben released the catch, freeing himself, and

mirrored Shane, shifting sideways in his seat. “I don’t know why you let me do it.”

“Take control?” Shane’s eyes were like shoaling water lit by sunlight, rippled by

the wind. They held Ben’s gaze, drawing him in. “I like it. Gets me off. You want it to be

complicated, and it isn’t.”

“You don’t like it all the time. You fight me every step of the way.”

Shane’s lips curved in a knowing smile. “Didn’t say I liked making it easy for

you.”

“True.” Ben sighed and reached out. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I thought

this—the job—would be a good distraction from life, romance. I bumped into my ex at

The Square Peg

109

the coffee shop this morning. He was so nice to me, as if he felt sorry for me for not

being good enough for him.”

Shane came to him, yielding easily, fitting himself into the shape of Ben’s arms as