A Sweet Man

by Jaime Reese

  “At least tell me his name.”

  “No. You want this, you fight for it.” She could claim to hate his nickname, but they often locked horns.

  “Fine.”

  He pushed off the counter and strolled toward the back room, letting the pull of the invisible string lure him toward the younger man beckoning him.

  = ♥ =

  Ben started over again. He couldn’t focus on counting, not while sensing the presence of the man still in the other room. He didn’t dare look to see if he had left. The fantasy was a safer bet. The man was alluring. Captivating. And the more Ben had stared, the faster his heart beat.

  But something had angered the large man. It was enough for Ben to hightail it out of there. Over the years, he had learned to detect that telltale moment before someone lost it. And he had learned how to escape quickly and not become collateral damage. He hadn’t even known what he had done, but he knew enough to not stick around and find out. Besides, he had a job to do.

  He blew out a frustrated breath. He had lost count. Again.

  Maybe it would be best to section off sets of the inventory, then count off those sets. He reached into the shelf and grouped the inventory into sets of five, then counted off the number of sets. Finally. He reorganized the items back the way they were and did the same for the next shelf, thankful he could focus again on basic counting.

  Until he couldn’t.

  His arm froze above one of the jars. The air had shifted like a drop in pressure before a storm strike. With his heartbeat pounding in his ears, he peeked over his shoulder. Ben slowly withdrew his hand from the shelf and waited, staring into those dark eyes again—rich brown in color.

  He waited some more. For the first time in Ben’s life, he felt the uncomfortable weight of a stare. He didn’t want this man assessing him, breaking him down into a list of positives and negatives. Is this what people think when I stare at them?

  Ben looked down at his clipboard and checked off another item. Work. That was what he needed to focus on.

  Returning his attention to the shelf, Ben grouped the stock into sets again, trying to keep count. One shelf, then another. Once finished with that pantry, he moved on to the next. Turning, he spotted the man still standing by the door. Nothing had changed but his stance. Leaning against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets, he was the textbook example of casual. His head was cocked to the side and a half smile pulled his stubble into that dip in his cheek.

  That dimple would have a big fantasy puzzle all by itself.

  The man didn’t speak, but it almost seemed as if he were waiting for some reply. Even though Ben’s stare remained firmly on those brown eyes, he didn’t miss how those full, wide lips remained sealed shut. The man just…waited. Watching.

  Note to self: stop staring at people, because this is super weird.

  Ben turned and busied himself, unsure of what to do or what the man wanted. He glanced down at his clipboard and frowned. He had gone through the entire inventory and had completed his task. He stole a quick peek through his lashes, unable to resist. The man had ducked his head as he kicked one boot with his other.

  Ben had missed something. That much was obvious. He looked up at the man just as the mystery man raised his chin and made eye contact again. Something…sad…blew across his features. A weak smile tried to pull the man’s lips but failed. Ben wanted that dimple to make a reappearance.

  After a barely noticeable nod, the man pushed off the doorframe, turned, and walked out of the room.

  An ache bled through every limb in Ben’s body. He clutched the clipboard to his chest, needing something to ground him. Those last few seconds before the man had left the room were telling. They revealed another side to him. He wasn’t the cocky, flirty man who chatted with Natalie. But a man who was vulnerable. It had been a brief glimpse, one the man had obviously tried to disguise, but just enough for Ben to detect.

  People spoke with more than their words. And over the years, he had learned to pick up on all the subtle cues.

  He had missed something.

  He should have scribbled a note on one of the sheets on his clipboard. He should have waved, smiled, done something other than stare like a damn pervert. He could have done something. Should have done something. Anything. Instead, he had chosen the safe route and done nothing. All in an effort to spare himself heartache and disappointment.

  A suffocating sense of loss stole his breath. In the back of his mind, Ben suspected the real man—the man who had been in that room for those last few seconds—was more than what he could conjure up in a fantasy.

  Maybe he would build up the courage to ask Natalie about him.

  Maybe.

  He used to be a little more daring, but that had faded with his time in prison.

  He glanced back at the empty doorway, imagining the man still standing there, smiling, with that dimple in his stubbled cheek. Challenging him to make a move.

  Ben might not be as daring as he was years ago, but he was still curious as hell.

  = ♥ =

  Bull gripped the steering wheel, rolling his fists on the leather in a revving motion as he replayed what had happened.

  Nothing had worked. Charm, teasing, flirting. His supposedly potent half smile had been deemed worthless. The man wouldn’t even look at him as he spoke, so he couldn’t flash his dimple. It was the one feature in his monster-sized package that softened his appearance and made him more approachable. That dimple always worked.

  Dammit.

  The man hadn’t said a single word. No name, no hi…nothing. One glance Bull’s way with a second’s worth of eye contact before he quickly looked away. Green. Mystery man’s eyes were a mix of pale and emerald green with flecks of gold.

  Bull had introduced himself, tried for basic chitchat, small talk, anything to get the man to say something. Instead, he continued with his work, completely unfazed by Bull’s presence or questions. He didn’t even bother to turn around and give him the time of day.

  Regardless of his nickname, he refused to force himself onto others, especially not after seeing the bruises and bandages. Maybe the guy was shy or awkward with new people or introductions? Bull was social, admittedly more than all his exes liked.

  But he respected boundaries.

  Worried he had overstayed his welcome, he had made a casual request…

  “If you want me to stay, tell me or give me a hint and I’ll talk your ear off all day.”

  The man had finally looked up from his clipboard and made eye contact but hadn’t said a single word in response. Not even a shy smile to indicate he welcomed Bull’s presence.

  It stung. More than he cared to admit.

  After turning into his building’s parking lot, he pulled into his spot and picked up his phone. He dialed his friend’s number as he cursed under his breath.

  “You’re an asshole,” he said once Aidan answered the call.

  “Likely. What assholery did I do this time to earn the distinction?”

  “I stopped by Nat’s bakery.”

  Silence.

  Asshole.

  “How’s Nat doing?”

  Bull scoffed. “Cut the crap. You didn’t ask me to go over there to see her.”

  Aidan couldn’t muffle the chuckle through the line.

  “You’re a jerk,” Bull mumbled.

  “How did it go?”

  “Crash and burn. Nat threw me into the deep end. Sink or swim and I sank like an anvil.”

  Aidan guffawed. “I knew I liked your sister.”

  Bull sighed. “You’re both cruel.” He switched off the engine of his SUV and sat in silence, remembering the shades of green in the young man’s eyes. “How did you know?”

  “Know what?”

  He closed his eyes and leaned back against the headrest. “Aidan, you’re smarter than that. Stop dicking me around. I’m being serious.”

  A heavy sigh echoed through the line. “Hold on a sec.” The sound of muffled voices thr
ough the line faded, likely his friend finding a quieter place for the call. “I knew the moment you saw him working for Nat, your interest would be piqued to find out more about the only person your sister has ever trusted to work for her. Maybe just a friendship, but maybe more, who knows. I’m not Cupid. That’s up to you guys. But I can tell you he’s a nice guy with a good heart, almost to his detriment. And as skilled as you are at profiling people, you suck at finding a person who is loyal and trustworthy.”

  He remained silent. Soapbox speeches and advice were two items rarely dished out by his friend.

  “I told you you’re not a loner. You think I don’t pick up on the way you look at Jessie and me when you think I’m not looking?”

  Bull sat up in his seat. “Aidan, I would never—”

  “I know you wouldn’t dare. Even my pea brain knows that. And if you were asinine enough to try, Jessie would shoot you down in a heartbeat because he’s loyal as hell.”

  Bull scoffed. “When did you ever get so confident about love?”

  “I told you, I’m not fucking Cupid. But every second of every day with Jessie is all I need to know that you need someone to come home to. Someone you trust who has your best interests at heart. Someone who is going to be as faithful to you as you are to them. Someone who accepts you and that dimple of yours and all the headaches it brings.”

  He rubbed his eyes. “I’m sorry.” He wasn’t sure why he was apologizing. Jealousy was an ugly trait and it wasn’t in his nature.

  “Damn right you should be sorry. You’re the best damn profiler I know, and your assessment of the situation totally sucked.”

  He scowled, not understanding Aidan’s comment.

  “Think, Bull. Reevaluate. Would I send you into a mission to fail?”

  “This isn’t a mission—”

  “Answer the question.”

  Bull blew out an exasperated breath. “No.”

  “Would Nat?”

  “No,” he grumbled.

  “So why would we both do that to you?” His friend waited for a second before continuing. “I’ll crash your pity party and break the news to you. We both want you happy. Ben’s got—”

  “His name is Ben?”

  “Oh hell. You didn’t even get that much out of Nat?” A howl of laughter filtered through the line.

  “The only mission here is you and Nat pissing me off.” Bull rubbed his eyes again. He was never going to hear the end of this.

  “Not this time.” The seriousness in Aidan’s voice was sincere. “Ask me anything.”

  “So, his name is Ben.”

  “Yes.”

  “What happened to his eye…and his hands?”

  “Two separate incidents. He’s tough enough to have figured out a way to escape both.”

  Two? Bull gritted his teeth as his blood boiled. That would explain why Ben had taken the step back into the room, away from him. It would also explain why Nat had mentioned Bull’s injuries could be misinterpreted as a potential threat. Crap.

  “He didn’t say a single word to me. Not one. He was more concerned with his work than bothering to speak to me. I think you guys might be off here.”

  “Doubt it. Think. Reevaluate.”

  Bull nearly growled in frustration. He hated when Aidan reverted to his service tone, commanding and dishing out orders. Bull had thought about what had happened. Over and over. He didn’t need to revisit the punch to his gut or the sting of rejection.

  “Take your emotions out of it. Assess the situation. Ben isn’t rude. Never has been.”

  That piqued his interest. “How long have you known him?”

  “A few years.”

  Years? That seemed…surprising. The young man wasn’t rude, but he hadn’t responded to a single question Bull had asked.

  “Let me guess…you spoke to him while his back was to you.”

  Bull lowered his brow. Aidan was great at leading and controlling a situation. But other than bossing people around, his people skills generally sucked. There was no way he could have guessed their interaction. No way he would know…

  A tumble of thoughts clicked in place.

  An attack didn’t merit a visit from Aidan’s special task force or his role as homicide detective. Outside of work and Jessie, Aidan focused his time in one other area: Halfway House.

  Click.

  Aidan had reminded him of Matt and Julian’s weekend barbecue.

  Click.

  “Is he a resident of HH?”

  “Yes.”

  Another memory surfaced, triggered by Aidan’s comment. Grandpa. The way his grandfather always needed to face Bull when they communicated.

  Click.

  “He’s deaf…”

  “Yes.”

  “You should have led with that.” Bull took a deep breath, controlling the snarl edging into his voice. “Had I known, I would not have walked away and let him think I wouldn’t make an effort to try.” He closed his eyes and took another deep breath, remembering something his grandfather had once shared with him. “Life’s too short. If someone doesn’t try to communicate with me, I move on.”

  “Shit. I hadn’t thought of that,” Aidan said. A moment of silence followed a few muffled curses. “His first charge was grand theft when he was around eighteen. I heard it was a friend who shoplifted and put the stuff in his bag. Ben refused to snitch, so he was sentenced to five years. Twelve months’ time in jail and the rest under probation. He did the initial sentence and was doing fine for about two years until a friend took him for a ride in a stolen car. That probation violation landed him in prison for two years to serve out the rest of the original sentence. He’s at HH for three months on parole, then he’s done.”

  “I didn’t ask.”

  Aidan spoke so damn fast that Bull couldn’t get a word in to stop him. That was something Bull had hoped to hear from Ben after a second chance and with a little trust between them. People made mistakes. It was a part of being human. What mattered most was what a person did afterward to avoid repeating those same mistakes.

  “Crap. Sorry. And why the hell didn’t Nat tell you anything?”

  Because his sister refused to let any of her words shape a person’s opinion of another. Damn her tunnel vision. Bull muttered a curse. His experience with his grandfather should have made him more aware of the cues. “Tell Matt and Julian I’m joining you guys at the barbecue this weekend.”

  “Okay.”

  “Make sure Jessie knows I’m coming too.”

  “He can find out when we get there,” Aidan grumbled.

  “No. Tell him. Or he’s going to be pissed you didn’t give him a heads-up so that he could make the tres leches I love so much.”

  “I hate you right now.”

  “Tell him or I’ll video chat with him. I’ll bring my charm and my dimple to the conversation.”

  “Shut up.”

  Bull chuckled.

  “Bull…” Aidan hesitated. “I swear he’s worth it. And I should have led with that.”

  He sighed. “In your own twisted way, you did. When you told me to go to Nat’s shop.” He sensed a snarky comment on the tip of Aidan’s tongue. “Don’t. Whatever you were going to say, just don’t. We’re good right now. Keep it that way.”

  “Copy that. See you Saturday.” Aidan hung up before Bull had a chance to say another word.

  He huffed out a chuckle. He should have teased and tortured his friend a bit more, but his mind was elsewhere.

  Saturday couldn’t come fast enough.

  Ben sat on the ground, cross-legged under the big tree in the backyard of Halfway House with a book in his lap. He anxiously waited for Julian to finish grilling the burgers and hot dogs. Mmm. Saturdays were cool. Sort of. Definitely not cool where South Florida weather was concerned.

  He glanced at the clear blue sky and squinted. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, fanning a little bit of air to his heated body. The forecast called for another sunny day with highs in the upper eighties. T
ypical Miami, even though it was winter. The only seasonal reprieve was less humidity and the occasional dip into the thirties or forties in the early morning hours.

  The big tree’s shade offered some protection from the sun, but even the thick foliage couldn’t cool the muggy air. Calvin had sat alongside him, refusing to abandon his duties as self-appointed guardian until the heat and stifling air proved too much for him. He had needed a break but promised to return once he cooled down and hydrated a bit.

  Ben stole a quick peek at the small group sitting near the back porch. Shaw and Drayton promised to stop by for a while after their interview with some car magazine while Aidan and his partner, Jessie, were inside helping Matt. Ty and Cole sat together at the larger round table Julian had set out earlier. Ty, Aidan’s brother, was quiet but Cole just didn’t seem to stop talking to Julian. Ben tried to keep up, but after attempting to read something Cole had said about Florida and special pregnant pigs and sexy porcupines, Ben gave up trying to make any sense of what the man was saying.

  The spot under the tree was too far away to read anyone’s lips, but Ben didn’t care to eavesdrop. It was the sense of familiarity he sought, the comfort of being welcomed into a home with so much happiness, even if he wasn’t smack in the middle of it all.

  That was what he had missed most about these Saturday barbecues.

  He glanced over at Julian by the grill. It was the only place where Julian, food, and fire were a good combination. Any minute now, Matt was going to walk out that back door holding a salad and insisting everyone have some even though there were burgers and hot dogs for lunch. And Aidan would trail behind him, rolling his eyes and complaining about…something. Until his partner, Jessie, would touch him somewhere and silence his rant, as if a single graze of skin held that much power over someone.

  Ben’s mind wandered, mentally thumbing through the memory pieces, trying to recall another instance where a simple touch could be so epic in a connection. He wondered if he would ever be so lucky.

  A smile curled his lips when Matt walked through the back door seconds later and the scene played out exactly as he had predicted. Ben shook his head as Matt proudly held his salad in his hands as if it were the showcase of today’s gathering.