by Abigail Roux
“It’s okay,” Noah told Ash. “Wyatt’s been oblivious to all things sex-related for like fifteen years, you can talk about it.”
“I have not.”
“Too busy for all things sex-related then.”
“Fair point.”
Ash looked him up and down and raised an eyebrow. “That’s a shame.”
Wyatt met his eyes, unable to look away as the heat of a blush crept up his cheeks.
Noah cleared his throat, breaking the spell. Wyatt tore his eyes away and Ash shook his head, then leaned against the bar again.
He looked at Noah and dropped his voice to a whisper. “So? Still want to meet Caleb?”
Noah grinned. “Got nothing to lose, right?” he said with the typical Noah Drake joie de vivre.
“Oh, you’ll love him,” Ash drawled with a hint of mischief worthy of Noah himself. “Come back tonight, he’ll be around and able to talk.”
“Will do.”
Ash smirked and glanced at Wyatt. “Come with him, Wyatt. I’ll serve you something besides root beer.”
Wyatt smiled crookedly.
Ash looked away and stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, patent disbelief on his face. “I cannot believe I said that. I’m gonna go clean the bathrooms.” He gave a mock salute and walked away.
Noah and Wyatt both snickered. Wyatt watched him until he disappeared through the kitchen door.
“So?” Noah whispered.
“I like him.”
“I’m a genius,” Noah crooned before biting into his hamburger.
It was with great regret that Wyatt found the lunch hour dwindling. He and Noah lingered as long as they dared, chatting with Ash, Delilah, and Ryan whenever the trickling stream of patrons died down enough for them to be able.
They left with promises to return that night, and on the walk back to the museum Wyatt had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning like a fool the entire way.
“I don’t like being set up,” Caleb Biron growled through the opening of the wall. He spoke with a cultured British accent. It was well after the lunch hour and the tavern was empty, save for a few regulars sitting in the booths and reading or doing work on their laptops.
Ash bent over, peering through the opening as he rested his hands on the back bar. “You don’t like much of anything.”
“I like being left the hell alone.”
“Caleb!”
“Ash,” Caleb mimicked, his voice high and whiny as if Ash were nagging him.
“Come on, Caleb.”
“I won’t be nice to him.”
“If you can’t be nice to Noah, then you can’t be nice to anyone.” Ash narrowed his eyes and bent closer to the opening in the wall. “Although from what I’ve seen, that’d be pretty par for the course.”
Caleb growled and pulled the stick that held up the hidden panel. It came crashing down on the back of Ash’s head with a dull thwack. Ash winced and jerked back, rubbing the back of his head as he glared at the now solid wall. Stars skittered to the edges of his vision and disappeared.
“Fuckwad,” he grumbled. When he turned around, Ryan was standing at the bar. Ash huffed at him. “What?”
“You got a grudge against this Noah guy? He seemed pretty all right to me.”
“No! I just think they’d hit it off.”
Ryan cocked his head and looked at the spot where the partition opened. “Yeah. They’re made for each other.” He reached over the bar and grabbed Ash’s neck, pulling him forward and making him bow his head so he could look at where he’d been hit. “Do you have a confusion?”
Ash swatted Ryan’s hands away and straightened back up. “It’s a concussion.”
Ryan smirked. “Sounds even worse.”
“Shut up. Go do something productive.” When Ryan turned away, Ash frowned again and rubbed the back of his head.
He glanced at the clock and took a deep breath to settle the nervous flutter in his stomach. It was nearly five o’clock. He hadn’t asked when Noah and Wyatt got off work, but he assumed it was around five. But then, he had no reason to think that, other than because it was when everyone else got off work. He didn’t even know when the museum closed.
He tried to tell himself that the butterflies were due to the dread of introducing Noah and Caleb now that he was sure Caleb would be a bastard about it. It was partly true, anyway. But the moment he’d seen Wyatt Case walk through the door, he’d been intrigued by the man’s aura. Confidence mixed with uncertainty. Intelligence countered by naiveté. Smoking hot swimmer’s body camouflaged by khakis.
As the grandfather clock near the entrance began to chime the hour, Ash exhaled slowly. The crowds would be in soon, and then the fun would begin. Gravedigger’s had become infamous in Richmond for being the first bar in the state to introduce flair bartending. They added in magic tricks and sometimes even performances on the bar. Other establishments had tried it since, but Ash and Ryan were still considered the best in town.
Hopefully he would be too busy to be nervous or even think about Wyatt Case.
By dusk Ash was up to his elbows in drink orders and laughing, carousing patrons. It was Thirsty Thursday and Gravedigger’s was packed, and would remain that way until midnight.
Noah and Wyatt had failed to show, but Ash still glanced at the door every time he heard it open. He didn’t want to admit that he was disappointed, but trying to deny it was beginning to get distracting, and it was dangerous to be distracted when you were flairing. Ash had more than once been hit in the head with a flying bottle of booze in the early years.
The door opened again as Ash tossed a bottle of gin in the air and caught it behind his back. He managed to glance over, and a rush of relief and renewed nerves swept through him as Noah stepped into the bar, followed closely by Wyatt.
Ash rolled the bottle over his wrist and held it upside down, pouring as he nodded at the two academics. Wyatt met his eyes, a smile playing at his lips as he gave a bashful nod. Ash couldn’t help but grin. The guy was cute as hell. His sandy blond hair was cut short and neat, allowing him to run his fingers through it without mussing it. He had beautiful sea-blue eyes that looked like they could cut glass. He was about the same height as Ash, maybe six feet tall, and had that whole bumbling academic with pent-up sexual frustrations vibe going.
Ash was lucky that what he did was second nature as he watched Wyatt work his way through the crowd. He’d have been sure to get another bang on the head otherwise.
He mixed one more drink to finish out the bottle, let the empty roll down his arm, and then popped it with his elbow to send it flying into a receptacle at the rear wall. He set his other bottle down and held up his hands.
“All right folks, that’s all for me!” The people lining the bar, two rows deep in places, waved bills at him and called out; others applauded and whistled. Ash leaned over the bar, taking the tips and nodding his thanks as Ryan set up behind him.
“Thank you, thank you, I’ll be here all week,” Ryan was saying as the applause for Ash’s work died down.
When Ash had gathered all the tips and taken one little bow, he sidestepped out from behind the bar and tried to make his way through the crowd to Noah and Wyatt.
“Hey!” Noah shouted above the din.
Ash took the hand he offered and shook it, pulling their clasped hands to his chest as he hugged the man with one arm. “Thought you’d chickened out,” he said into Noah’s ear. It was hard to hear above the music and cheering and general merriment. Ash had always loved the chaotic atmosphere of Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights, but it made it hard to converse.
“We got held up. Museum emergency.”
“Right.” Ash patted Noah on the back and let him go. Wyatt was looking around and trying not to watch them too closely. Ash stepped toward him and held out his hand. “Wyatt, good to see you again.”
Wyatt looked down at his hand in surprise and then gave that adorable, bashful smile as he took it. Ash pulled him c
lose and hugged him in the same manner he had greeted Noah. It was how he greeted everyone he knew, but when he pulled Wyatt closer, it made his chest flutter and his breath catch. When he pulled back, his heart was pounding just a little faster.
It had been a long time since he’d had that reaction to someone he’d just met. He enjoyed the rush of the sensation, the exciting prospect of new territory to explore.
“Y’all want a drink?” Ash offered. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Ryan.
“We’re good right now. Work in the morning, you know,” Wyatt said, just loud enough for Ash to hear.
“Museum emergencies,” Ash repeated, amused. He nodded toward the door to the kitchen. “Come on then, it’s quieter in the back. Hey,” he said as he pulled Noah closer and they began to force their way through the crowd. “Caleb’s cranky. If you want to tell him to go fuck himself, I might have to blow you in the alley out back as a thank you.”
Noah cackled, his eyes shining with good humor. “Interesting offer, but I’ll pass either way. Cranky, huh?”
Ash winced. “You said you like a challenge.”
“I love a challenge.”
Ash opened the door and ushered them in. The kitchen was much quieter than the outer bar, although the music still filtered in through speakers in the ceiling, and the two evening cooks argued constantly as they worked. Ash looked around and found Caleb sitting on one of several empty crates in the corner near the back door. He was smoking a cigar and letting the fan next to him blow the smoke out the open door.
“Caleb, these are the health inspectors I forgot to tell you about,” Ash said, deadpan.
Caleb glared at him and then gave the other two a salute as he blew thick blue smoke out his nose. “I don’t want to be set up, and this little git knows it.”
“Ash said you were a cranky bastard,” Noah said. He stepped past Ash, knelt in front of Caleb, and took the cigar, examining it with a critical eye before taking a slow drag.
Ash watched in stunned silence, holding his breath as they waited for Caleb to respond.
Noah handed the cigar back and blew a perfect ring of smoke past Caleb’s face toward the door. “Cubans, huh?” he asked with a cheeky smirk.
Caleb stared at him for a long moment, mouth ajar, the trail of smoke from the cigar slithering up into the air between them as Ash and Wyatt waited, tense and silent.
Caleb finally tore his eyes away from Noah to look up at Ash. “I like him.”
“Looks like you have an eye for matchmaking.”
Wyatt and Ash sat at a booth in a quiet corner of the bar. The boisterous crowd had died down just before midnight, when Ryan’s shift ended. Most of the people in the bar now were there for the calmer, more intimate atmosphere.
Ash raised his glass and grinned before he took a sip. “I’m a freaking magician,” he drawled.
“We’ll just call you Thurston.”
Ash raised one eyebrow and grinned. “Greatest magician to ever live. More popular than Houdini in his time. I’m impressed.”
“If that sort of knowledge impresses you, then I like my chances,” Wyatt said, and Ash laughed. He raised his hand to call for two more drinks.
Caleb tended the bar for the last two hours of the night most nights to wind people down from the shows Ash and Ryan put on. Tonight, Noah sat at the end of the bar talking to him whenever he was free. They hadn’t stopped flirting for five hours, and they were getting along even better than Ash had expected. Most people could only tolerate Caleb for limited periods of time. He was blunt, rude, grumpy, and possessed a rapier-like wit that he wasn’t afraid to use, all topped off like a cherry by that damned British accent that made you feel inferior. Ash, Ryan, and Delilah were, as far as Ash knew, the only people he was even marginally civil to.
When Ash had met Noah, he’d known that not only would Noah be able to match wits with Caleb, he’d probably enjoy it.
Ash looked back at Wyatt and smiled. Wyatt was watching him as if the rest of the bar didn’t even exist. “You always this . . . intent?”
“Only when I’m fascinated.”
Ash raised one eyebrow in disbelief. He usually read people well, but he hadn’t expected the shy museum curator to be so forward. He liked that Wyatt could surprise him.
Wyatt laughed and shook his head, looking down at the table. “I’m sorry, I don’t drink much. It makes me braver than I really am.”
“Does it?” Ash planted both hands on the table and leaned forward, pinning Wyatt with his gaze. “I’ll just go hurry those drinks along then,” he murmured before smirking and sliding out of the booth.
The drinks he brought back were stronger than they should have been, but he was feeling daring tonight.
“So tell me what exactly a museum emergency looks like.”
Wyatt groaned and ran a hand through his hair. As he told Ash about his problems at the museum, the playful air faded from him and the worry lines seemed to grow deeper. Despite trying to make a joke of hiding under his desk that morning, Ash could see how deeply troubled Wyatt was by it all.
“So you see my dilemma, right?” Wyatt asked, motioning pleadingly with his hands. Ash was torn between watching those hands and watching Wyatt. “I mean, I’m lost. If I can’t come up with something, I’ll be fired.”
“Doesn’t seem right. They should have known construction would hurt business and planned ahead.”
“Thank you!”
Ash couldn’t help but laugh at Wyatt’s sincerity, though he did feel sorry for him. He seemed so stressed now that he’d gotten on a roll speaking about it. Maybe that was why Wyatt had allowed Noah to drag him here when it was so obviously not his scene: he needed a release.
“So you’re here researching a new exhibit?” Ash ventured. “Or is it stress relief?”
“Neither,” Wyatt said with the honesty of too much alcohol. He gulped down the last of his drink.
Ash cocked his head and bit his lip against a smile. “I could probably help you with one.”
Wyatt’s blue eyes met his with intense interest, but then his expression softened and he leaned forward. “You already have,” he whispered, the sound conspiratorial. They both laughed as if it had been a joke, and continued talking and drinking as the night wound down around them.
Another hour and Ash realized that perhaps he’d made those drinks too strong. He could hold his liquor, but it had been a long week and he was exhausted on top of being drunk. Caleb agreed when Ash tried and failed several times to sit on one of the bar stools, and promptly took his keys from him.
“That’s so unnecessary,” Ash grumbled as he leaned against the bar.
Noah and Wyatt were the only ones left, and Caleb had already locked the door and turned off the outside lights.
“I don’t drive to work, Caleb. Remember?”
“Do I trust you to walk home by yourself when you’re sober? No. Do I trust you to stumble home alone tonight? Hell no.”
“I could drive him,” Noah offered as he flicked his keys in his hands.
“I’m fine.”
“I can walk home with him,” Wyatt said, voice soft and gruff as he leaned against the bar.
Caleb glared. “You’re more sloshed than he is!”
“But less likely to wind up sleeping in the street,” Wyatt countered with a goofy grin. Ash smiled at him. There wasn’t a chance in hell he’d get through the night without falling into bed with this guy.
“Oh, Christ,” Caleb grumbled before ushering them all out of the bar, where they were no longer his problem.
Wyatt wrapped his coat around himself and they turned the corner, walking down the side of Gravedigger’s and away from the heart of the Fan. “How far is it?”
“About six blocks. It’s usually not such a bad walk when you’re going in a, y’know, straight line.” Ash waved his hand in front of him, trying to illustrate said straight line without weaving.
Wyatt glanced at him and smiled. Ash was wearing a black pea c
oat and a lime green scarf, the only bit of color on him. He was hunched against the wind, head resolutely down to watch his footfalls. Wyatt reached out and slid his arm around Ash’s waist. The contact sent a thrill through him.
“Two drunks are better than one,” he said to excuse the brazen move.
Ash snorted and slid his hand into Wyatt’s coat pocket. Wyatt bit his lip to hold back a foolish grin. They were both unsteady on their feet, but leaning against each other did have its benefits. It kept them warm in more ways than one, stoking that hint of excitement that came from the touch of someone new.
And it kept them from falling over.
The walk to Ash’s building on the very edge of the Fan wasn’t a short one, but when they reached it, Wyatt found himself regretting that it hadn’t been longer. He stood with Ash at the massive glass door to his building and searched for something even mildly appropriate to say. He wanted to come in with Ash, wanted to spend more time with him, wanted to see what sorts of things he held dear in the condo upstairs, ask if maybe he could see him again. But it had been so very long since Wyatt had even had a passing interest in someone else, he couldn’t decide how best to vocalize any of those desires.
“You don’t think I’m going to let you walk back to the museum alone, do you?” Ash asked as he slid his key into the lock, flicking his wrist and pushing in with practiced ease as he opened the door. He stepped into the foyer and reached for Wyatt, pulling him by the lapel of his coat. Wyatt glanced around the building distractedly, his nerves making it hard to meet Ash’s eyes as the man helped him down the couple of steps into the building’s foyer. The walls were exposed brick and the stair railing was ironwork that looked like it might have been original.
“Eighteen twenties?” he asked.
“Yeah, how’d you know?” Ash sounded breathless as he let the massive door fall closed behind them with a loud clank.
“Museum,” Wyatt grunted. He realized that Ash was taking much of his weight, and he straightened up and cleared his throat. He overcompensated and almost lost his balance.