Love Him Free: Book One of On The Market

by Lindsey, E. M.

‘Shabbat,’ Simon signed apologetically.

  Rocco shook his head. ‘Sorry, forgot. Saturday night. After sunset.’

  Simon’s smile was back, and he nodded shyly. ‘Okay.’

  ‘Okay,’ Rocco echoed before kissing him again. ‘Meet you at the Market soon?’

  Simon dug his phone out of his pocket, looked at the time, then nodded. ‘I’ll load up in the car and text you when I’m on my way.’

  Rocco nuzzled their noses together, kissed him again, then stepped back fully. ‘I’ll have the booth ready.’

  Simon’s eyes met his, and Rocco held his breath. They were on the edge of something he was afraid to admit—aloud or on his hands. But it passed. Simon stood on his toes to kiss him one last time, then led the way back down the stairs.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Simon shielded his eyes against the last full rays of the low-set sun. Behind him, Rocco was hauling the bins which held most of the stuff he’d baked the night before, and some into the afternoon. Boxes of cookies, babka, and sufganiyot filled with an array of creams and jams. It was nothing like he’d done before, but everything Bubbe would have appreciated, and he liked to think she’d be happy for him, even if she might not have fully approved that he was falling for an adult film star with a chaotic life.

  Bubbe had wanted Simon to be happy—and, b’ezrat hashem, he was.

  Reaching into the bin at his feet, Simon swallowed back his nerves as he pulled out the sign he’d made after Rocco left, and turned toward him. He waited until Rocco was done unpacking the breads, then he gently tapped his elbow. ‘Can I show you something?’

  Rocco smiled at him and stepped back toward the edge of the booth. ‘Everything okay?’

  It was—mostly. Simon couldn’t shake the fear, especially once the filming was over, that Rocco wouldn’t have a reason to stay. Cherry Creek wasn’t posh like Hollywood. It didn’t have things to do the way Rocco was used to. The people here were small-town locals without a lot of worldly experience.

  Rocco had been relaxed that afternoon, but Simon recognized the strain of communication in him, and he wondered now how long it was going to take for Rocco to get tired of putting in all the effort. Simon couldn’t be with him all the time, and he knew deep down, Rocco didn’t want another lover as an interpreter. And frankly, Simon didn’t want to fill that role all the time either.

  He’d been struck with an idea when Kyle had asked him to help with a few basic signs, and he’d run with it, but he felt fear gripping his throat and his hands felt frozen. What if Rocco was offended? What if it was a stupid idea?

  Rocco brushed a touch to Simon’s cheek. ‘Simon.’

  He’d never get tired of seeing his sign name on Rocco’s big hands. Licking his lips, he nodded and held up the sign. ‘I thought we could try this tonight.’

  Rocco looked at him, then down at the words printed in block letters Simon had colored in with red sharpie.

  Learn A Sign, Get A Cookie

  ‘What is this?’ Rocco asked.

  Simon jutted his chin toward the plastic bin near the front table that was full of small butter cookies. ‘I made those, and I thought we could give them out for free to anyone who learns a sign. We could…I don’t know. Teach them the basics? Hi, how are you, please, thank you, favorite animals.’ Simon couldn’t read Rocco’s expression, and he started to feel panicked. The poster board lowered in his one hand while the other signed. ‘Sorry, it was a dumb idea…’

  Rocco was on him then, backing him up against the flimsy tent walls, mouth devouring his. “Perfect. Precious. You.” The words rose to Rocco’s lips, spoken against Simon’s as he kissed him.

  Simon flushed and allowed it for a moment, but with all the people around, he felt his anxiety spike and he gently eased Rocco away. ‘It’s okay?’

  Rocco brushed a thumb over Simon’s kiss-swollen lips. ‘Perfect. Thank you, and sorry if I made you uncomfortable.’

  Simon’s flush was heavy enough to make him dizzy, but he shook his head and gave Rocco’s hand a squeeze before letting go. ‘We can take turns manning the sign booth.’

  Rocco nodded eagerly, and set it up on the far side of the tent, propping up the sign with tape against the wall facing the main walkway, then he took the cookies from Simon and laid the bins out in neat rows.

  It was messy—nowhere near as put together as Chametz—but for the first time, the mess didn’t bother him. It felt like something he’d created, and not like a thing that had been dropped on his shoulders with crushing weight.

  The sun dipped even lower into the horizon, and the traffic started to pick up. Somewhere in the direction of the fire station, Simon heard music start up, and just above that the bleating of Collin’s goats. His first customer arrived—a woman and a child he didn’t recognize. They eyed the breads, and the little girl’s hand tapped on the little plastic bin holding the chocolate filled sufganiyot.

  “Are they like normal doughnuts?” the woman asked.

  Simon bristled at the word normal, but he offered a smile just the same. “They’re an old Jewish recipe, so I like to think they taste better than what you find in the supermarket…but they’re similar.”

  Her mouth quirked as she read the signs. “Okay, one chocolate and one of the Blue Moon.”

  Simon felt a small surge of vindication. He’d reduced the beer to a syrup and used it to infuse the custard, and he had a feeling it would go over well. He had a feeling Levi would be a mixture of proud and annoyed when he finally saw it.

  “What’s that over there?” the woman asked as she handed over a twenty.

  Simon made the change, then followed her gaze to where Rocco was leaning against the table and teaching three teenagers how to sign something. The angle wasn’t enough for him to see, but by the grins on their faces he didn’t think it was a favorite color.

  “My Market partner is Deaf, so he’s teaching everyone signs for free cookies,” Simon explained.

  The woman frowned, but the little girl jumped on the balls of her feet. “I learned that at school! I can…I can say this!” She widened her stance like she needed the balance, then signed on her small little hands, ‘My name Melody.’ She spelled her name with the careful, slow fumble of a new learner.

  Simon waved his hands in applause. “Very good,” he said, then signed it. “Do you want to go learn something else? My friend Rocco is really nice.”

  The mom looked dubious, but the girl was too excited and took off ahead of her. “Does he live here?” the mom asked, inching toward the end of the table.

  Simon’s heart sank a little, but he shook his head. “No. He lives and works in Malibu, but he’s taking the summer off.” Though, in truth, he didn’t really know how long Rocco planned to stick around. He glanced over to see that Melody had gotten Rocco’s attention, and she was showing him the handful of signs she knew—her name, age, a couple of the colors.

  Rocco beamed, then squeezed his body through the gap in the tables and knelt down in front of her to teach her something else. ‘My favorite animal horse,’ he signed very slowly, murmuring the words along with his hands.

  The woman softened a bit. “He’s good at that.”

  Simon couldn’t help his smile as he watched the girl copy him until she had it right. “Yes, he is.”

  “You come back and show me what you remember, and you can have more cookies,” Rocco told her as they finished.

  Melody’s cheeks were puffy, crumbs on her lips, and she signed, ‘Thank you,’ before her mom took her hand and they wandered off.

  Simon stepped back as Rocco eased back into the booth, and this time he didn’t feel worry as Rocco stepped in close. ‘You’re cute when you’re teaching little kids.’

  Rocco rolled his eyes, but he put one hand at Simon’s waist and dug his fingers in. ‘You’re cute all the time.’ He brushed a kiss over his lips, then turned back to rearrange the cookies as another customer approached, and Simon got back to work.

  * * *

 
; By seven, Simon’s stomach was growling and the last thing in the world he wanted was something that came out of the Chametz kitchen. He was entirely sold out of the beer and chocolate sufganiyot, and only had two left of the raspberry. Their cookie supply had dwindled down to almost nothing, and the sign booth had shut down when Rocco had given the very last one to Melody who returned to show him she had remembered everything he taught her.

  ‘Food?’ Rocco asked.

  Simon nodded. ‘Yes, please. Something with greens though. No more junk.’

  Rocco chuckled and leaned in to kiss his cheek. ‘Be back soon. I’ll find something good for us.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Simon told him, then leaned on the counter as he watched Rocco bob and weave through the slowly dwindling crowd. He checked through his wares one last time, then the cash box which was over-flowing. It wasn’t enough—it would never be enough to make up for the hole he was in, but it was something. Rocco had already sent the first five videos off to his friend for editing, and they’d be back this week for the pair of them to watch and approve.

  Then…then the first one would be posted.

  Simon had reluctantly signed the contract accepting sole rights over the content. He’d added in his bank account, he’d accepted all terms and conditions, and had tentatively agreed to a trip at some point in the future to visit Rocco’s lawyer to sign a better contract that would protect him from what Rocco’s ex-agent might do.

  But for now, Rocco assured him it would be fine. After all, Xander owned Sylent, not Rocco.

  ‘Rocco is for you,’ his lover assured him late Wednesday night after their hearts began to beat slower, and their heavy breathing began to ease. ‘He can’t have the piece of me that’s here with you.’

  It was almost I love you—it was something more than just I like you, at least. Simon had been on the verge of confession then. He was deliciously sore and sated in more ways than he could have dreamed. And he was…he was happy. He was romanced. He was content. The more he got to know Rocco, the deeper he fell.

  There was no glass shattering with him.

  Simon startled when someone cleared their throat, and he turned to see Levi and Fitz standing at the edge of the table, Levi’s face settled into a smirk. Simon knew he’d been caught, but he didn’t much care anymore.

  “You know, until right at this moment, I thought Fitz was a fucking liar,” Levi said. “I didn’t think you’d actually show up.”

  Simon bit his lip and decided whether or not he’d take it personally. He earned the hurt, he knew, but Levi’s tone was a soft mocking—the way brothers should be. He reached under the counter and pulled out the paper bag he’d been saving. “I tried a new recipe.”

  Levi stared, then he bent down and pressed his hand to the grass before standing back up. At Simon’s frown, Levi shrugged. “Just checking to see if hell freezing over made it to earth yet.”

  Simon rolled his eyes, but he shoved the bag at Levi. “You can eat it later and text me about how much you hate it.”

  Of course, Simon’s slight plea was ignored. Levi was a man of little patience—just like he’d been as a boy. He was the kind of kid who tore wrapping paper to shreds, who ripped tape off boxes, who never understood the meaning of wait. That same enthusiasm had him reaching into the bag and biting into the sufganiyah hard enough to send part of the custard oozing out over his hand.

  “Holy shit,” he said, voice muffled by the soft dough. “Is this beer?”

  “Blue Moon,” Simon answered softly. “Rose was stocking some of the OU cert cases for me.”

  Levi looked Simon directly in the face as he chewed, then shoved the rest at Fitz who took it with a fumbling hand. “Eat the rest of this.” At Levi’s command, Simon’s heart sank. “It’s too fucking good and I’m so full, I’m going to die.”

  Simon’s entire body shuddered with a wave of relief. “It’s not awful?”

  “No, and if I didn’t love you, I’d beat the shit out of you for holding out on me like this. You can bake,” Levi accused with a slightly powdered finger leveled at him.

  Simon turned his gaze away. “I didn’t learn nothing from Bubbe. It’s just…I didn’t love it the way she did. Or you.”

  Levi softened and he reached past Simon for a napkin. “I’m glad you did this.”

  Simon shrugged. “I’m glad you pushed me.”

  Fitz smiled because he had to know the comment was directed partially at him. “Can we add some of these to our bagel order?”

  “Yes,” Simon told him, then he felt a small pang of grief because he’d have to break the news to him eventually—no matter how much people loved this, it was coming to an end. “Just remind me on Sunday.”

  Fitz nodded and gave him a quick salute before he turned away, leaving Simon and his brother alone. The tension was thick between them, but Levi didn’t look angry. “People are going to miss the shop when it’s gone.”

  Simon bowed his head. “I know. But a weekly bagel order—even adding doughnuts to it—it’s not going to make a difference.”

  Levi let out a bone-deep sigh. “Yeah. I went over all the books while I was there on Sunday and…and I get it. And I’m still not happy you kept it to yourself, and I don’t love that you took out a fucking personal loan for my truck…”

  “I’m not going to apologize for that,” Simon told him firmly. He held Levi’s gaze. “It’s you, Levi. It’s so…you.”

  Levi curled his hands into fists, but he nodded though it looked like it cost him something to admit the truth. “It’s doing well. God, it’s…there’s so much potential, and people actually like it. I think it’s going to work.”

  “That’s all I wanted,” Simon told him. “And I’m going to be fine.”

  “If you’re not,” Levi warned, but Simon waved him off.

  “I am. I promise.”

  Levi nodded, opened his mouth like he was going to say something, then stopped. “Give me the rest of your cookies.” He dug into his pocket and slapped a wad of cash on the table. “You’re almost out anyway, and I was going to put together a couple of meals for Dr. Alling to take to some of his long-term patients.”

  Simon was surprised he knew who Levi was talking about, but Parker Alling had moved to Cherry Creek a year after Simon’s family had. Simon only took notice of him back then because anyone with differences stood out in this town whether they wanted to or not, and everything about Parker had been a sore thumb. Parker was in Simon’s grade—with one arm, and had a thick Norwegian accent. His English had been a little better than Simon’s, but he was still different. Parker hadn’t taken the teasing lying down, though. Not like Simon. He won and lost a few fistfights and gained the respect of the other kids in his class long before Simon had the courage to say two words when the teacher called on him. When Simon came back from UCLA, he found out Parker had gone off to medical school. He returned a few years after Simon with MD attached to his name, married to Ronan, and he started his own life in Cherry Creek.

  “You two are friends?” Simon asked as he scooped what was left of the cookies into a paper bag.

  Levi shrugged. “We ran into each other a few months ago and he told me that he does meals for some of his long-term patients. Over Purim I threw together some stuff for his charity thing, and he liked it so…I guess we have sort of a contract now? He’s…Parker.”

  Simon raised his brows as he threw the cash from Levi into the cash box. “Which means…”

  “Nothing, really,” Levi said, scooping the bag into his arms. “He’s married to Ronan, and he’s inappropriate in public. He offered me the use of his arm for a day if I did a strip tease for him on his birthday.”

  “Levi,” Simon breathed out.

  “Dicked down and still a prude. How very much like you,” Levi chastised, then laughed when Simon’s cheeks went pink. Levi gave him another intense look, then shook his head. “It looks good on you, Si.”

  Simon frowned. “What does?”

  Levi grinned. �
�Love.” He winked, then turned on his heel and walked off.

  Simon stood there like an idiot for far too long before remembering he had to close up shop. He checked his phone and found a text from Rocco saying the lines were impossibly long, but he really wanted pizzas from Enzo’s truck, so he was going to wait. Simon shot back a thumb’s up emoji, then began to pack everything up.

  He was lost in his thoughts when he heard someone knock on the table, and Simon lifted his head, his eyes going wide in surprise because he most definitely recognized the man standing in front of him. He’d followed him online for years—enjoyed his videos for years.

  He’d even hoped for the best when the guy swore he was madly in love with Rocco.

  “Hi,” he offered. Eric was as pretty as ever, and smaller in person than he seemed in his selfies with Rocco. He was lithe and thin, but well defined in his tight designer shirt and jeans. He had sunglasses on his head, pushing his hair back, and his smile was straight, and white, and perfect. “You’re not sold out, are you?”

  Simon licked his lips. “Um. Yes, actually. Sorry. My brother has a truck down the road though, if you…”

  “The rugelach place?” he asked, mispronouncing the ch the way everyone did. “I saw it, but everyone was talking about your doughnut thingies.”

  Simon’s guts were twisting in on themselves. “Ah. Sorry…”

  “You don’t need to be shy,” Eric said. He splayed long fingers over the table and leaned forward. “You can’t hook Rocco by playing coy. That’s not his thing.”

  Fear and confusion rippled up his spine. “Are you looking for him? Does he even know you’re here?”

  Eric’s smile went wider. “So, you do know who I am.”

  Simon shrugged. “I guess so.”

  Eric gave him a calculating look, then lifted his hands and began to sign so swiftly, Simon had no hope of following. He caught a few words here and there, ‘…week…not pretty…last night…mine.’ But nothing else. When it was obvious Simon couldn’t follow, Eric sighed and shook his head, his face full of pity. “So, that’s a no on Deaf speed?”