by Ariel Tachna
“You’re fortunate the building has all the different entrances. It should allow you to funnel traffic upstairs after that’s done while we work on the main floor without having to close completely. We don’t want to impact your livelihood more than necessary to complete the job you hired us to do. And really, with just the three of us, one section at a time is all we can handle anyway.”
“What do you need to get started?”
“Access to the basement,” Derek replied. “Through the garage would be easiest with the supplies.”
“Come on. I’ll walk you through.”
“EXCUSE me, Mr. Hensley?”
Owen didn’t flinch at the sound of his father’s name. He didn’t. He’d trained himself out of it when he’d opened a business. He smoothed his expression to neutral—he couldn’t do better with his father’s memory hovering—and turned to face the kid Jackson had brought with him.
“Yes? Kit, right?”
Kit grinned, bright and full of cheer. “Yes, sir. And my brother is Phillip.”
“Please, call me Owen. I’m not old enough to be ‘sir’ to you.”
Kit flashed him another big grin. “Derek sent me up with a couple of questions if you have time to answer them.”
Owen smiled at Kit’s earnest look. “I can take a couple of minutes.”
“Thanks.” Kit’s smile was too genuine and too contagious to resist, and Owen found himself returning it without thought. “Your bookstore is awesome, you know. I can’t wait to get a break so I can poke around. Do you have an LGBT fantasy/sci-fi section?”
“Somehow I don’t think that’s the question Derek sent you up to ask me.”
Kit ducked his head sheepishly. “Well, no, but he knows how I am. He probably figured it’ll take me an hour to come back down with the answers. I mean, it’s a bookstore!”
Owen shook his head with a small smile. “Let’s get him his answers first. You can browse when he gives you a real break. Gotta keep the boss happy.”
“Derek loves me. I’m the kid he never had. Well, Phillip and I are the kids he never had. He’s married to his work. I think he spends even more hours working than Uncle Thane does.”
“The questions?”
“Oh, yeah, sorry. Um, we’re running wires along the ceiling, and there are a couple of places we’ll have to bore holes to pull wires through the joists. Is it okay for us to do that now, or do we need to come before business hours tomorrow to do it?”
“How long will it take?” Owen appreciated the courtesy. He’d designed a “Please pardon our dust” sign to warn patrons about the construction, but he’d built his reputation on the welcoming atmosphere of his store, and he didn’t want to lose that if he could help it. The shop was empty right now, but that could change at any time.
“Each hole won’t take long, but there are several of them. Maybe ten to fifteen minutes total? I’m not exactly sure. Phillip’s better at estimating that kind of thing than I am.”
“Ten or fifteen minutes would be fine. We aren’t busy right now. If it’s going to be longer, it would be better to wait until tomorrow morning in case we get busy during lunchtime. If that’s okay?” He bit back the groan at the instinctive desire to please. He was the one in charge. He needed to act like it, but he couldn’t completely slough off his early training.
“Do you have a lot of people come in on their lunch breaks?”
“We do, actually. They work downtown and come to Jefferson Street for lunch and stop in here after they eat to get a book for the evening or the weekend. We also have quite a bit of traffic during happy hour.”
“That is so cool! I keep telling Uncle Thane he needs to let Phillip and me come down here with him when he and Uncle Blake go to Wine and Market, but he never listens. Now I can tell him we want to come to the bookstore, and Uncle Blake will make him give in.”
“He has opinions on bookstores?” Owen asked drolly.
“He’s an assistant principal at Henry Clay. He has opinions on anything related to education. He took books out of our allowance and told Uncle Thane to buy us as many books as we wanted. He said our allowance was for extras, not for necessities.”
“I think I like your Uncle Blake.”
“Kit!”
Kit jumped and turned to look toward the stairwell to the basement. “Oops, I’ve been gone too long. I’ll come back up later.”
He hurried back downstairs, leaving Owen standing there shaking his head and trying to assimilate everything he’d learned in the past few minutes.
Mel had told him Dalton was married to a man, but he hadn’t expected anyone to discuss it so openly. Granted, Kit struck him as the kind who’d never met a stranger and wouldn’t know a secret if it bit him on the ass, but even so, he’d chattered away about Uncle Thane and Uncle Blake like it was the most normal thing in the world. Someone had obviously raised him very differently than Owen’s own background. Owen still bore the mental scars of his father’s intolerance. At seventeen, he never would have dared to speak about a gay couple in his father’s hearing, even if he himself wasn’t involved. At best he’d have gotten a lecture about the sin of sodomy. At worst he’d have gotten a beating for even mentioning such an abomination.
Good for Kit for being so unafraid. Maybe one day Owen would be truly rid of the teen who still cowered inside him.
WHEN they finished boring the last hole for wires they needed to run in order to add light fixtures and outlets in the appropriate places, Derek told Kit and Phillip to get started and headed upstairs to let Owen know they were done with the noisy part of the day’s work. Kit had relayed Owen’s concerns about the noise but also his diffidence in sharing those concerns, so Derek wanted to assure him not only had they finished, but also they took the needs of his business seriously and would work around them whenever possible.
He nodded to the woman who worked with Owen in the shop—Mel, he thought her name was—but didn’t stop to talk. He peeked through the door to the sitting area, hoping to catch Owen’s eye and draw him back into the kitchen so he wouldn’t traipse dust everywhere, but Owen had his back to the door as he talked with a customer.
“How old are your grandkids, Mrs. McClain?” Owen asked her. “Or maybe the better question is what level are they reading on?”
“My granddaughter is in seventh grade and my grandson is in fourth,” the woman said. “But they both read well above their grade levels, and they both adore anything to do with fantasy or mythology. They’ve gone through all the Percy Jackson books already. My daughter suggested they might like something with African or Asian mythology, but she didn’t have any specific titles for me.”
Owen chuckled, the sound rubbing along Derek’s skin like velvet. “I have a couple of things in stock, I’m pretty sure, and I can order anything I don’t have on hand for you. We just have to decide what you want to give them.” He led the woman out of Derek’s line of sight. Derek should go back into the kitchen and give the message to Owen’s assistant so he wouldn’t disturb him, but this was a side of Owen he hadn’t seen before, and it intrigued him. He moved a little farther into the store until he could see the two of them again, heads bent together—silver white and hot pink—as they looked at the books Owen pulled off the shelves.
The titles they discussed meant nothing to Derek. He didn’t have nieces or nephews of his own, and Kit and Phillip were well past the age of Mrs. McClain’s grandchildren when they’d come to live with Thane, but even if he’d known all the titles, it wouldn’t have been what caught Derek’s attention. No, he was too fascinated by the confidence in Owen’s voice and stance. All evidence of the shy, blushing man Derek first met disappeared, replaced by this confident, competent bookseller who had clearly found his calling matching books and customers.
“I think I’ll take this one,” Mrs. McClain said finally. “If they like it, I can come back for the sequel another time.”
“And if they don’t like it, find out what they didn’t care for, and we c
an use that to find something better,” Owen replied. He turned away from the bookcase and caught sight of Derek. The flush Derek had associated with their conversations returned with a vengeance, making Derek hope he’d caught Owen’s interest the same way Owen had caught his.
“Sorry to disturb you,” Derek said. “I had an update for you, but I can wait until you’re done with your customer.”
Mrs. McClain looked back and forth between the two of them with a sharp smile that made Derek wonder just what she saw. “Don’t worry about me, Owen dear, I’m going to browse for something to read myself, and maybe I’ll find something for Will as well. Oh, and I told Akshat I’d see if his order had come in yet.”
“It’s in the back. I’ll get it for you while you’re browsing. I also ordered a book I think Mr. McClain will like. It’s called the Ghost Railroads of Kentucky, and I know how he is about his trains.”
“You are a treasure, Owen Hensley,” Mrs. McClain declared. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
“No, ma’am,” Owen said.
“Now, go see what your young man over there needs.”
Owen opened his mouth, probably to protest Derek being his young man, but Mrs. McClain bustled off before he could, leaving Owen and Derek alone. Derek simply stood there and watched him for a moment, completely enthralled by the picture Owen presented and the obvious thought and care he put into his regular customers.
“You had an update for me?” Owen prompted after a moment.
“Yes, Kit told me you were worried about noise during the lunch rush, so I thought I’d let you know we were done with drilling holes for now. We may have a few more to do tomorrow morning before the shop opens, but we’ll do our best to keep the noise to a minimum during shop hours.”
“Thank you,” Owen said softly. “I appreciate the consideration.”
Derek took a step forward, not wanting the moment to end, but the door to the shop opened, and the ringing of the chime broke the spell. “I’ll let you get back to work.”
Owen glanced over his shoulder before looking back at Derek. “Duty calls and all that.”
Derek had never wished quite so hard that he could freeze time and send the customers back outside for a moment longer, but the sense of quiet, fraught intimacy was gone now, so he nodded to Owen and went back downstairs to help Kit and Phillip pull wires.
Chapter Four
“HEY, Owen!”
Owen looked up with a smile as Kit bounded into the kitchen two days later, a huge grin on his face.
“Hi, Kit. You’re in a good mood this morning.” It hadn’t taken but a couple more conversations with Kit for Owen to fall under his charm. Kit was engaging and energetic, sure of himself at seventeen in a way Owen hadn’t mastered even at more than ten years older. Kit didn’t need flamboyant colors or colorful hair to be gay. He simply lived his life and expected the world to let him. So far, the world had played along. Owen hoped he never lost that shine.
Phillip followed more slowly on Kit’s heels, but he gave Owen a wave. Owen hadn’t talked to Phillip as much over the past few days as he had to Kit, but the older teen was always politely friendly.
“He’s all puffed up because he had a date last night,” Phillip muttered.
“You’re just jealous because I have a boyfriend and you don’t have a girlfriend,” Kit retorted. Geesus Pete, Owen envied Kit’s ease with himself to casually throw out something like that when Owen still had trouble saying it in his own shop with his lesbian colleague.
“I’m considering my options,” Phillip said loftily.
Owen hid a snicker behind his hand. He wasn’t so far removed from high school that he’d forgotten how fragile the teenage male ego could be.
Kit leaned in toward Owen. “He means he’s sleeping around, but don’t let Uncle Blake hear or he’ll have Phillip’s balls.”
“Hey!” Phillip protested. “It wasn’t like that.”
Kit snorted but kept looking at Owen. “It was exactly like that. I’ve heard rumors. Uncle Thane was the same way in high school. It runs in the family.”
“But it skipped you?”
“I’m the younger brother. I take after our mom. She was the good twin.”
Owen couldn’t stop his laughter. “You really expect me to believe that?”
“Lily Parkins was an angel,” Derek said as he walked into the kitchen on the tail end of the conversation.
“Then Kit definitely didn’t take after her,” Owen quipped before blushing at the way that sounded. He didn’t know Derek well enough to joke that way. Or maybe he was blushing because today’s T-shirt was even tighter than the one Derek had worn the day before, showing off his broad shoulders and impressive biceps to perfection.
“Nope. He’s his father through and through.” Derek’s tone eased any concerns over Owen’s comment, fortunately. “Boys, you’ve taken up enough of Owen’s time for the morning, and we have work to do. Those wires won’t pull themselves.”
“Yeah, yeah, keep your shirt on,” Kit joked as he walked toward the stairs to the basement. Derek took a step in Kit’s direction, menace in every line of his body, but Kit just laughed and walked a little faster. The expression, however teasing Owen tried to tell himself it was, brought back memories of a similar look on his father’s face, but he pushed it aside. Not your concern. Kit isn’t scared of Derek. You don’t need to worry. Phillip wouldn’t be laughing if Derek were a real threat.
Phillip followed Kit and Derek down the stairs to the echo of Kit’s backtalk and Derek’s frustrated grunts. Owen shut the door on the sounds he couldn’t quite push aside as harmless, no matter what his rational mind said, and went into the nonfiction section to rearrange so he’d have space for his new order.
“WHAT did I do with that temporary end cap?” Owen muttered as he dug through the closet he used as storage a couple of hours later. He could have sworn he’d put it in there when he’d taken down the display he’d had up for Shakespeare’s birthday in April, but he didn’t see it. Short of emptying the entire closet—something he didn’t want to do during business hours—he was going to have to assume it wasn’t there, which left the storage room in the basement. He’d been trying to avoid going down there while Derek was working because he couldn’t afford the distraction, but he needed that display so he could put up the copies of the newest Mary Calmes mystery without taking down the rest of his Pride month display. He did his best to support local authors whenever he could, but he made sure never to miss a release of any of the ones with ties to the LGBT community. He was hoping to get Mary in for a book signing once the renovation was done.
There was nothing for it. He’d just have to go downstairs and look. He’d stay out of the area where Derek, Kit, and Phillip were working. He ducked his head as he walked down the steep stairs so he wouldn’t hit his head. He looked up at the base of the stairs just in time to see Derek peel his T-shirt over his head and wipe his chest with it.
His broad, muscled, hairy chest gleaming with sweat.
For the love of little green apples, Derek was Owen’s wet dream come to life. He swallowed hard and forced himself to look away. He refused to go down that road again. Falling for one mostly straight man in his life was enough. He wouldn’t survive a second heartbreak like that.
Pointedly not allowing himself to stare, Owen walked to the basement storage area and pulled open the door with a little more force than necessary. And of course, the display case sat front and center, right where he thought he’d put it upstairs. He grumbled under his breath as he pulled it out to drag it toward the stairs.
“Need a hand?”
“Thank you, but no,” he babbled. The difference in their height put Derek’s Adam’s apple right in the line of Owen’s gaze. “Besides, you don’t have a shirt on.”
“Oh, I don’t know, it might bring in business.” Derek smirked.
Owen’s cheeks flamed. So what if Derek looked good enough to eat? He didn’t have to be so smug about i
t. “I’ve got it.” He hefted the display and fled up the stairs. He might not look like Derek, but he’d grown up on a farm. He had his share of muscles.
He set the display in the corner of the kitchen and ducked out the door to the second floor to gather his composure, only to find Kit leaning on the wooden railing, his cell phone glued to his ear and a dopey grin on his face. Owen stepped to the other end of the porch to give Kit as much privacy as he could without going back inside. He didn’t think Derek would follow him upstairs, shirtless or otherwise, but until the heat in his cheeks dissipated, he wasn’t going anywhere he would have to deal with people. Kit on the phone didn’t count.
He rubbed his hand over his face as he tried to focus on something other than Derek’s naked chest, muscles flexing as he moved, and dusted in thick, black—
“You okay, Owen?”
So much for Kit being on the phone.
“Yes, I’m fine. Just needed a breath of fresh air.”
“If you can call summer in Lexington fresh anything,” Kit joked. “At least in Louisville there was a chance of a breeze off the river. Here it’s just hot and humid.”
Owen shrugged. “I grew up in eastern Kentucky. Maybe it wasn’t quite as hot as it is here, but I didn’t have air-conditioning either. I can only spend so much time indoors before it all starts smelling recycled to me. I know it’s not, as often as people are in and out, opening doors and all, but it still feels that way. I’d rather be out here sweating a bit than stuck inside all day every day.”
“Then why open a bookstore?” Kit asked. “Why not do something that would let you work outside?”
“Because books are what I love, and sharing books with other people is my dream come true. Really it’s just a month or two. The rest of the time, I throw open all the windows and turn on the fan or else it’s cold, and central heat doesn’t have the same effect on me as air-conditioning.”
“Where in eastern Kentucky?”