A Sweet Man

by Jaime Reese

  Suppressing a chuckle, Ben returned his attention to the book in his lap, reading up on the baking technique Natalie promised to teach him on Monday. He rested his elbow on his knee as he read, memorized, and visualized himself in her kitchen, practicing every step of the process detailed in the book.

  Two large, rugged, thick-soled boots appeared at the edge of his vision. Ben furrowed his brow. Those weren’t Calvin’s shoes.

  He glanced up, blinking up at the large man standing in front of him, backlit by the sun as if he were some mystical being. Ben absently closed the book and watched the man carefully sit across from him on the ground, struggling to cross his thick legs to match Ben’s sitting position.

  This close, the man from the bakery looked more striking, broader, more…larger-than-life. The scratches had diminished, and the bandages were gone, leaving behind a few marks that were all nearly healed. But it was the clean shave that made his single dimple stand out and Ben’s pulse race.

  He wondered what other dimples existed on the man’s body.

  “Hi, I’m Gabriel,” the man said as he signed, fingerspelling his name. “Gabe for short. But everyone calls me Bull.”

  Ben straightened and smiled. He hadn’t expected the man to know ASL. Maybe he only knew enough for a basic introduction. But it was enough for Ben to know the man was trying to understand him.

  “I’m Ben. It’s nice to meet you,” he signed in response, likely a little more eager than he should have been.

  The man’s smile was more brilliant than the Miami sun. “I didn’t know you couldn’t hear me when we first met. I’m sorry - - not asking - - Natalie - - said nothing - -. If you had heard me, you might have told me to shut up - - talking too much. We can forget - - have a first introduction do-over.”

  Whoa, that’s fast. Ben rocked backward, surprised by how quick those large hands moved with each sign, almost too fast for him to follow. The man knew more than just a few words. “How long have you known sign language?”

  “My grandfather was deaf,” he signed with a warm smile. “I learned how to sign almost as soon as I spoke my first words.”

  It was no wonder his hands moved so quickly, far too fast for Ben to keep up with him. “Why do they call you Bull?” he signed, curiosity getting the better of him.

  The corner of that wide mouth curled. “My last name is del Toro. Toro is Spanish for bull. The nickname started because of my name, and then I grew into it.” He shrugged his big shoulders almost as if to emphasize the point. “It just stuck with me since.”

  Ben noticed Gabriel’s hand movements slowed a tiny bit, enough where he no longer worried about missing something. He chewed his lip, mustering up the nerve to ask the question that had nagged him since he first saw him. “How do you know Natalie?”

  Gabriel cocked his head. “She’s my sister.”

  He should have known the moment Gabriel mentioned his last name.

  He blamed it on that dimple.

  He wanted to ask a million different questions.

  They stared and smiled at each other. At this rate, Ben would have tons of memory pieces to last him for a while. Gabriel’s eyes were rich brown but lightened to bright amber when the sun hit them just right, almost like the cognac Natalie used in some of her special recipes. There was a sprinkle of gray hair in his sideburns that faded into the darker hair at his temples. It was barely noticeable, but enough to make Ben’s heart skip a beat.

  He hadn’t expected to like an older man, but maybe it was just this man that piqued his interest. He didn’t believe in love at first sight or insta-anything. Even friendships took time to build. But there was something about this man and the growing five-thousand-piece fantasy puzzle of details that threw every one of his beliefs out the cliché window. Those lips alone would supply about a dozen of their own memory pieces. They were full and wide yet unmistakably masculine. Ben wondered if they were just as soft as they looked.

  His breath quickened when those lips parted…then moved. Ben blinked, suddenly pulled from his trance. “Can you read lips?”

  His gaze snapped to Gabriel’s eyes as he nodded. Searing heat rose up his neck and flamed his cheeks and ears. He had obviously been caught staring at his mouth.

  He pulled the phone out from his back pocket and tapped a quick message on the display. Texting is easier. He peeked up at Gabriel after his face had cooled.

  “That would mean you have to give me your number.”

  Ben chewed his lip, not sure what to do. That was obviously a pickup line. At least…he thought it was. There was something about Gabriel that made him comfortable enough to reveal pieces of himself without worry. He typed out another message. Are you flirting with me? Best to ask the question rather than risk misinterpreting his intentions. Maybe the guy was just a smooth talker and a conversationalist who loved charming people with his smile and that evil dimple.

  Because he wasn’t kidding himself, that dimple had magical powers and could sucker anyone into doing just about anything.

  Gabriel shrugged and half smiled. “Is it working?”

  Ben bit back a grin and nodded. He looked away, trying not to stare. Fidgeting with his shoelace, he couldn’t help his gaze absently sliding up the man’s tree-trunk legs and skipping over to his muscled forearm. Thick dark hair couldn’t hide the flexing muscles that tensed under his watchful eye. His gaze traveled up the path of defined dips and curves to Bull’s bicep, the T-shirt stretching across his upper arm.

  He released a slow breath through parted lips. He shouldn’t stare. Not this much. Not this obvious. Ben swallowed heavily and dared to make eye contact. Steadying his shaking hands, he managed to type out a message. Sorry. I know I stare. It’s a bad habit I’m trying to break.

  Those warm brown eyes held more playfulness than before. “It doesn’t bother me.”

  Something pulled Gabriel’s attention to his right where the others gathered. Ben glanced over, the group of friends suddenly busying themselves or staring up and around. They were horrible at disguising their curiosity. Ben couldn’t help the chuckle that surfaced. He looked back at Gabriel, smiling wider when Gabriel aimed a scowl at Aidan.

  He was tempted to touch the stretched jean material but opted to tap the big boot instead to sign a question. “You know Aidan?”

  Gabriel nodded. “We met while serving about fifteen years ago. He’s my best friend.”

  “He’s been good to me,” Ben signed, debating how much he should reveal and what bits of information would push the man away. He chewed his lip, another habit he needed to shake. “I’ve known him for a while.”

  “I know.”

  He stared into those rich brown eyes, wondering just how much he actually knew. There was something about the man’s gaze, revealing and honest yet guarded.

  “I know this is your second stay here at Halfway House.”

  Ben ducked his head and closed his eyes. So much for the element of mystery. Some people would label him an ex-con for the rest of his life and keep their guarded distance. He just wished he had a little more time with the man sitting across from him. The man had turned out to be far better than the fantasy Ben had assembled in his mind the last two nights. Definitely not the type of man he expected from the bull-sized package with the scuffs and bruises.

  He wanted more time.

  He took a deep breath, driving the negative thoughts and fears from his mind. Maybe he could salvage a friendship between them. After all, it was silly to think a man like Gabriel would be attracted to him. He glanced up and was met with questioning eyes. He wished he could read minds as well as he could read lips.

  “I know you served twice, and I know the charges for both.” Gabriel stopped talking, returning Ben’s unwavering gaze as if waiting for him to challenge the bits of information.

  Somewhere along the way during their interaction, Gabriel had stopped signing, almost as if picking up on Ben’s comfort level with lipreading. Especially with this conversation. For some reason
, Ben didn’t want anyone interpreting the sign language between them and inadvertently eavesdropping.

  A tap to his sneaker drew his attention. “People make mistakes,” Gabriel said, ducking his head to keep eye contact. “Mistakes aren’t always bad. Sometimes, they make you stronger and smarter.”

  Ben grabbed his phone and typed a quick message. I’ve made A LOT of mistakes. Without looking up, he turned the phone toward Gabriel to read. Might as well go for broke and down in a blaze of glory.

  Another tap to his shoe had him peeking up. “So you’re stronger and smarter, even if you don’t realize it. It’s what you do with that knowledge that counts.”

  The man was a big fortune cookie. Ben bet he was just as tasty. He shook his head, hoping to push away that line of thinking to avoid embarrassing himself. He typed out another message, hesitating for a moment. He wasn’t stronger or smarter, but he was quick enough to realize he hadn’t scared Gabriel away. Yet. He tapped away at his phone again. I’m an ex-con. Times two. That’s what people will see when they look at me. He peeked up, chewing his bottom lip again and doing his best to keep the swell of emotions in check. It was best to get this out in the open, up front. If the man was going to walk away, better he do it now rather than later.

  Gabriel’s gaze was steady. “I served for years. Did things I was ordered to do. My work now…one of the things I do is provide private security. And sometimes, that requires me to do things to defend myself or others. Does that mean I’m a violent person?”

  Ben slowly shook his head. He didn’t know Gabriel well, but he had met enough people in his life to recognize aggressive tendencies. He absently typed out another quick message. He turned the phone toward Gabriel but didn’t have the heart to look at him. I trusted the wrong people. I thought they were my friends. He swallowed heavily, not really sure why he had revealed that truth or why his hands were shaking, but it was too late to take back. Maybe his subconscious had possessed him in that moment and typed out that message as a test? There was something about Gabriel that made him feel safe. At least, he thought so. But with his track record, he didn’t really trust his instincts that much.

  A large hand touched his shoe, drawing his attention. Hesitantly, he glanced up.

  There was understanding in that brown gaze. “And I’m sure it hurt like hell when you were betrayed.”

  The words both eased the knot in Ben’s chest and spiked a flutter in his stomach.

  They both looked over to Calvin as he made his way toward them with a scowl. His housemate didn’t mouth a single word as he plopped himself on the ground at Ben’s side, close enough where their shoes touched soles. He crossed his arms and stared at Gabriel, the flex in his biceps likely a challenging gesture. Ben bit back a smile as both men narrowed their eyes, assessing each other.

  “I’m Bull. Nice to meet you,” Gabriel said, extending his hand toward Calvin.

  Glancing over to his side, Ben waited for Calvin’s reply. After a few seconds of hesitation, he shook Gabriel’s hand, likely a little firmer than necessary. “I don’t care how big you are, you hurt him, and I’ll kick your ass.”

  Ben stole a glance back at Gabriel as that teasing dimple made an appearance.

  After a quick moment of eye contact, Gabriel returned his attention to Calvin. “Ditto.”

  Calvin gave him one curt nod and then turned toward Ben. “Burgers are ready.” He patted Ben’s shoe and gave Gabriel a second narrow-eyed stare down before standing and leaving them alone again. There was so much testosterone in the air that Ben swore he would sprout another testicle.

  “Want to grab a burger?” Gabriel asked.

  Ben smiled broadly as he held up two fingers. “I want two.”

  Smiling at each other for some unknown reason, Ben reached for the book and tucked it under his arm before heading toward the others standing by the grill.

  Yup, Saturdays are definitely cool.

  = ♥ =

  Bull scrubbed the towel against his hair, drying off after his second shower of the day. Sneaking under the covers with hours’ worth of sticky sweat after the barbecue was a hard no in his book.

  He hung the towel on the rack and retreated to his bedroom. He couldn’t wipe the smile from his face as he thought about the afternoon with Ben. After lunch, they had spent a little time with the others but ultimately retreated to the quiet spot under the tree. They exchanged notes back and forth about Natalie and how much Ben loved working at the bakery. Whether signing or typing out a note on Ben’s phone, their conversation had been as easy as the smiles and chuckles that followed.

  Bull sank on his bed, on top of the covers. Sleep would likely elude him tonight. There was no way his mind would settle after spending a few hours with Ben.

  He slung an arm behind his head and sighed. Ben was sunshine—bright and beaming—and Bull wanted to bask in that light and roll around until he was scorched by Ben’s fire. His smile was multi-watt and the way he bit his bottom lip shot a bolt of heat straight to Bull’s balls in zero seconds flat. There was a brightness to him that hadn’t been tarnished by life and manifested as innocence with a healthy dose of mischief.

  It was different. Honest.

  He doubted Ben realized the power he wielded upon others. But it was a force that tapped into Bull’s primal, deeply hard-coded DNA. The need to safeguard that untarnished spark in Ben awakened that protector-chromosome in Bull like a raging beast on steroids. Others were equally affected and surrounded Ben like a surrogate family. Bull noticed it in Julian’s watchful eye and Shaw’s big-brother-like guardianship. Calvin’s intentions were still a mystery, but it was obvious he felt the need to check in on Ben’s safety.

  Regardless of the protective entourage and its potentially suffocating nature, Ben smiled and thanked those around him, grateful for how much they cared.

  Bull blew out a heavy breath. His mom had always told him he would fall hard and fast. With every failed relationship, he had called bullshit. Knowing how easily he had been able to walk away. With Ben, the beginnings of a possible friendship were already throwing his entire mind and body into a tempest of emotions and need. He welcomed the internal chaos, hoping it was mutual and that it paved the road to Potentialville.

  He reached for his phone on the nightstand when it pinged with a new message. Swiping across his screen, he read the new text and swallowed heavily.

  How old are you?

  He had exchanged phone numbers with Ben, but he hadn’t expected a text so soon. And definitely not with that question. Wincing, he typed his reply, then sat back in bed. His thumb hovered over the send button. He wasn’t kidding himself. Being older by a few years wouldn’t be an issue for most, but he was more than a decade older than Ben and obviously had a hell of a lot more experience. It didn’t faze him, but not much did. He just didn’t have a clue how Ben felt about it.

  “Fuck it,” he mumbled as he pressed the button to send his message. Thirty-eight. Those few seconds before the next ping seemed like an eternity.

  I’m 24. Is that weird for you?

  That was about the ballpark he had expected. No. You?

  Not even a little bit.

  He chuckled to himself and didn’t get a chance to respond before the next ping sounded.

  Are you smiling?

  Hell yes, he was smiling. Yes.

  I like your dimple. :)

  Bull’s smile widened as he typed his reply. Are you flirting with me?

  Is it working?

  The laughter bubbled up his throat and echoed in his empty bedroom as his words from earlier were repeated. There was that spark of mischief he had seen in Ben. He didn’t have a chance to respond before another message pinged.

  Do you have to get up early?

  No. He had a sudden appreciation for lazy Sundays. He added a second part to his message before sending. You?

  Only for breakfast. Matt has a schedule.

  What are the rules on using your phone? he asked in his next message,
unsure if there was some curfew or something in place that Ben might be penalized for violating.

  They don’t restrict my phone use as long as I don’t get written up.

  Before he had a chance to respond, another text came in.

  They’re less strict with my phone because I need it. They even let me have one with a camera just in case.

  That perked him right up. For video calls? Bull’s mind wandered, cut off by a quick follow-up ping.

  Texting is easier. Tough to hold the phone when I need to sign.

  You could video chat and text at the same time. And he could see Ben as he bit his lip and his cheeks burned red.

  No.

  He sat up in bed, scowling, wondering why Ben’s reply had barely taken a second. The analytical side of his brain picked up on a lot from visual cues and body language, but he didn’t need to use his expertise to detect the discomfort screaming from the short reply. Spurred by concern, he quickly typed out his response. Okay.

  The seconds ticked by without an additional ping. Ben could have stepped away from his phone, or maybe the battery had died. Maybe it was nothing, but after the rapid-fire exchange, he couldn’t ignore the extended silence. Thinking quickly, he changed the subject, hoping to elicit a response. Is Ben short for Benjamin?

  Yes. The reply came quick. Almost as quickly as the ping of the follow-up message. Sorry.

  For? Things had started out well. Bull sensed there was more to Ben’s hesitation, and he hated pushing the point, especially after the long pause. But every assessment in his mind told him not to let it go.

  Waiting, he stared at the phone’s display, willing it to ping with a new message. Aidan had once told him that silence was a powerful tool during interrogations. He was curious to test the theory. He had enough patience to wait all night if necessary.

  The ping came nearly five minutes later. I don’t want to screw this up.