Roseville Romance

by Lorelei M. Hart

  I stood in line at the olive bar and when I got my turn, grabbed two plastic tubs and filled them with the varieties that looked tastiest. Then, swinging my plastic basket by the handles, I headed for the paper products where I spent fifteen minutes trying to determine what made paper napkins holiday worthy vs. not holiday worthy. Finally, an elderly lady took pity on me and showed me the ones on the top shelf that cost five times what the others did and actually were called “deluxe.” I also picked up a couple of bags of ice just to be extra helpful.

  There. I had accomplished my Thanksgiving Day shopping and filled with a sense of accomplishment, added a box of cookies decorated like pumpkins and pilgrims to my purchases.

  I ate half of them standing in line at the self-checkout, starving and pretty sure I was going to be late.

  Turned out self-checkout was not a good choice on Thanksgiving. People were buying things they bought only on that holiday. Oddly shaped vegetables and strange-looking cheeses. Most either didn’t have barcodes, or they were so messed up, the readers couldn’t handle them. And, frankly, since I hadn’t had coffee yet, I couldn’t handle any of them. If I didn’t want to show up at a meal where everyone else had made something amazing with nothing in my hands, I’d have dumped my plastic basket and left.

  But I persisted. As I shuffled forward, I became aware that the store was playing Christmas music. I had nothing against carols, but felt they were best after Thanksgiving. Or at least after coffee. Finally, after two hundred ten years or fifteen minutes, one or the other, I was in purchasing position. I lifted the napkins from the cart and slid them over the reader and froze.

  “Oh my gods…” A guy was heading out the door, and not just any guy. I couldn’t be sure from the back, but the man exiting had that same sun-streaked hair, tight little butt, and was wearing a jacket I’d seen on the guy at the bar.

  “Sir?” The high whining pitch of the self-checkout assistant cut through my stasis. “Are you having trouble?”

  “I…” What to do? I shoved the three items over the reader, figuring if I moved fast enough, my quarry would still be heading for his car. I swear I finished in under twenty seconds and was racing for the door, chased by the assistant holding the game cards I’d earned and didn’t want for their holiday sweepstakes.

  Outside, I stopped and looked around, and my heart sank into my stomach.

  He was gone.

  Chapter Two

  Kipling Taylor

  As I climbed my front steps, I patted my pocket for my phone out of pure habit and with a constricted feeling in my stomach, realized I’d left it at the debit card machine inside. I turned around since the store was walking distance to my house and made my way back in a hurry. That phone not only had my contacts, but sometimes I jotted down notes about patients in the verbal note-taking app my assistant had suggested.

  “It’s you,” a male voice spoke in my direction. I figured he was speaking to someone else so I pushed the exit door open and headed for the ATM, letting out a long breath of relief seeing my phone still there where I left it.

  Gotta love a small town. In New York where I’d studied at NYU, that phone would’ve been long gone.

  With a lighter heart, I headed for the door I’d used to enter.

  “I’m sorry to bother you,” the same voice said, and I turned this time, phone retrieval no longer on my mind, to see what was happening. That’s when I realized who the voice belonged to. Hal—the guy from the Moonlight Lounge who sang like a displaced angel. I often went there for a drink after a hard day and let his voice soothe all the bad things away.

  “Hi. You’re Hal, right?” Stupid, stupid, stupid. Everyone knew this guy was Hal. He was like a local celebrity, or he was to me. His smile took my breath away.

  “I am. And you’re…”

  I stuck out my hand after shuffling around my shopping bag with an embarrassing amount of unhealthy food contained within. I shoved my phone in my pocket and waited as he gawked at my hand. “I’m Kipling. You’re a great singer.”

  He took my hand, but we didn’t shake at all, instead, held hands like longtime friends or lovers, mostly the latter. Then he covered my hand with his other one after putting down his bag.

  “I’ve seen you sitting at the bar.”

  I nodded and then looked to the floor. There were many times I’d wanted to approach him, but it seemed he already had a group of people and I wasn’t sure of his relationship status. Plus, most of the time I was still twisted up from the day.

  “I go in to unwind. Your music certainly helps.”

  He chuckled loud and hard. “That cheesy, huh?”

  I took the opportunity to look at him like this, in regular clothes. He wore a V-neck sweater in navy which suited him well. Gray slacks accentuated his legs and I was sure other parts as well.

  “Not cheesy. You have an amazing voice. It eases me.”

  Shouldn’t have said that last part without knowing if he had an omega already. A crisp fall breeze hit us and almost barreled me over, carrying his scent, all cranberry and tangerine and cinnamon.

  He should be a cocktail all by himself.

  “I am glad to be of service. Oh, I must be leaving but…”

  “Where are you off to? Big plans for Thanksgiving?” None of your business, man. Jeez.

  “Yes, actually, and you?”

  I was caught between not wanting to sound pathetic and actually being pathetic.

  “Um, I’ve got an obscene amount of cheesecake and fried chicken. And the parade is on, so…”

  Yep, A+ in Pathetic Arts.

  “Well, that just won’t do, omega. How about you join me for Thanksgiving. I’m going over to spend it with some friends. I’m not allowed to cook things for other people to eat, so I was in charge of the olive platter, napkins, and I picked up ice, my specialty. I also bought cookies but I’ve eaten most of them. I had to keep up my strength in that long line.”

  I laughed and felt my cheeks heat at the sight of his smile. This wasn’t the one he flashed in the club, rather, this was a genuine grin. Somehow I knew that.

  I couldn’t pass up this opportunity. Not only had this man featured in my dreams of late, but he took main stage in my spank bank and had for months.

  I needed to know him.

  “I’d actually love that. And what Thanksgiving couldn’t use another cheesecake?”

  “Perfect. Do you trust me to give you a ride? I can bring you home afterward.” His tone told me that bringing me home might hold a little bit more.

  “That would be great. I live just down the street. I walked.”

  “Then let’s go. At least this year I have a good reason to be late. I picked up one of the hottest guys I’ve ever seen.”

  ~~

  “I wish we had candles floating up there like Harry Potter,” Anderson mused while looking up at the ceiling, beautifully decorated with fall decor hanging from the rustic chandelier.

  “But that’s Dumbledore’s magic, not real. Notice the candles don’t drip hot wax onto the students.”

  Who knew Hal had an extensive knowledge of Potterworld.

  “I know. But I can wish. What kind of name is Kipling?” The boy I saw once a week in counseling pointed to me with a fork in hand. It was different to see my patients and their parents outside of my office. Anderson was especially surprised to see me.

  “You mean Kipling?” I asked. Hal had introduced me as Kipling, and Anderson had looked at me weird ever since. To him, I was Dr. Taylor. Maybe I should be less formal and let my clients call me by my first name all the time.

  He scoffed and stabbed at a piece of turkey. “That’s a weird name.”

  I leaned back in my chair, appalled at the education system for a minute but then remembered the boy was only eleven. I was such a snob. “It’s after an author. Joseph Rudyard Kipling. You’ve seen the movie The Jungle Book?”

  Liam interjected, “Anderson, we read that book. Mowgli and the jungle. You know it.”

&n
bsp; Anderson looked to be thinking as a smile rose to his face. “So you wrote that book and you’re a doctor?”

  I sighed. “No, I was named after him. Good book, right?”

  He nodded. “Hal brings Robbie books sometimes and he shares them with me.”

  Over Anderson’s head, I looked at Hal, barely touching his food, already staring at me. His eyes on me had my stomach fluttering overtime. I bit down on my lip and wished it was him doing the biting instead. “Do you?”

  He shrugged. “I got lost in books when I was a kid. Kids don’t read enough these days, and I know Patrick and Damon aren’t big on TV other than the video games, so I do what I can.” He reached over and tickled Anderson’s ribs, making the kid giggle. “So you like them, too, Anderson? I need to double down on my book buying.”

  Anderson bobbed his head. “Who wouldn’t like a book full of tigers and snakes and bears.”

  “And now? Do you read now, Hal?” I cut in, craving every bit of knowledge about him.

  “Yes, when I find time between my office job and singing. And you?”

  First date questions. We were surrounded by strangers to me and kids, yet, I felt like Hal and I were the only ones in the room. I told him that I loved to read, but only on audio.

  “Well that’s easy. Hal likes to sing which is kind of like telling a story. He can tell you stories,” Robbie contributed from across the table.

  Hal’s eyebrow popped up at the notion. “Bedtime stories are my favorite.”

  “It’s been a long time since I had a good bedtime story,” I said, taking a bite of the homemade cranberry sauce and thinking about how Hal probably tasted sweet and tart like his scent portrayed.

  “Well, maybe it’s time we fixed that.”

  Chapter Three

  Hal

  I pushed back from the table with a groan. “Patrick, Damon, I don’t know when I’ve had such a good meal.”

  Patrick rose and picked up a couple of big platters. “Well don’t be rushing off now. We still have to play football and have dessert.”

  “I really think football is a bad idea since I just ate enough to feed a small town.” Covering my mouth, I let out a small burp.

  “Oh, first we have to put away all the food and get the dishwasher loaded, the pans soaking...by the time we’re done with that we should be ready to scrimmage. Plus...it’s the only way to build an appetite for all the pies.”

  “Don’t say pie,” I moaned, and both the kids giggled.

  Damon handed me a stack of plates. “By the time we finish cleanup and play for an hour or so, you’ll be hungry again.”

  I was torn. I didn’t mind helping out, but I’d had another plan in mind after that. Six hours between now and my piano gig wasn’t nearly enough alone time to get to know Kipling, something I hoped he’d agree to.

  “That sounds great.” My omega was grinning up a storm, without a single qualm about ruining the plans he didn’t have any way of knowing about. “I haven’t played football in years. I hope you kids will take it easy on me.”

  The good-natured banter continued while we got everything done and then headed outside to their big front lawn. Edison, who hadn’t been feeling well—and who Patrick had whispered might be pregnant—sat on the bench on the porch and cheered on Liam’s team, consisting of Patrick, Anderson, and Kipling. Damon, Robbie, Suzi—Patrick’s dental assistant—and I faced off against them in a game destined for the annals of Thanksgiving history. A deep-blue autumn sky overhead showcased the few puffy clouds and golden sunshine, and the breeze sent leaves chasing across the grass.

  Lots of laughter and teasing accompanied our roughhousing, but for me the high point was when I tackled Kipling. Cheers and protests arose, probably since we were playing touch. And he’d rolled over so we were lying on the cold ground face-to-face, staring at each other. The sounds of the others faded away until all I could hear was our breathing, and all I could feel was the man whose long, muscular body pressed to mine. I told myself the panting was from exercise.

  “Okay, fellas, that’s enough football,” Edison called from the porch. He held up a pie cutter. “I laid out dessert. Come in before someone gets hurt.”

  The moment shattered, we climbed to our feet and followed the others inside where the table was once again laden with pies and a pumpkin-spice cake roll and a plate of cocoa-dusted truffles from Sugar, Liam’s amazing candy shop. Edison disappeared into the living room, pale again, but the rest of us ate far more than I’d have believed possible and as soon as we finished, Robbie and Anderson disappeared to play video games, and Patrick and Damon gave each other amused grins and stood. “Hal, I have leftovers for you in the kitchen. Maybe you’ll share them with our new friend.”

  Damon disappeared and returned with two big bags. “Here you go. Thanks for coming, guys.” He shoved them into our arms and stepped back next to his alpha. “Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do.”

  Patrick slipped an arm around him and tucked him close to his side. “I can’t think what that would be, omega mine.”

  Their love filled the room, and for once I didn’t feel jealous. My cheeks, however, did flush. “Really, we just met…”

  Liam paused on his way into the living room. “Yeah, I remember when we just met. Get going. It won’t hurt our feelings. Nice seeing you again, Hal. And, Kipling, I think Anderson enjoyed spending time with you out of the office.”

  Kipling nodded. “Sometimes that can be a big help, for the kids to know I’m an ordinary person, just someone who’s good at listening. He’s a special boy.”

  Liam beamed. “We think so. Well, I’d better get my family home.”

  And five minutes later we were standing on the porch by ourselves, and the easy comradery of the afternoon faded into silence. I’d had fun, and I thought he had, too, and there was certainly heat between us, but would he want to continue our date...was it a date?

  I waved him toward the car, glancing at my phone. Three hours until I had to be at work. “So, nice afternoon, right?”

  Kipling’s teeth were white against his tanned cheeks. Did he use tanning beds, or how did he get that golden color? “It was great. I didn’t want to admit that I was dreading spending the day alone. My family is far away, and the friends I usually spend holidays with are on a cruise. You saved me.”

  My alpha side puffed out my chest in pride. That’s right. I saved my omega. “Anytime.”

  He waited while I fished out the fob and clicked the doors open. “Are you playing tonight?”

  “Yes, all weekend in fact. Are you going to come by?” Say yes!

  “I thought I would, if you don’t mind.” He slid into the seat and I handed him the bags and closed the door then scooted around the front of my sports car and climbed into the passenger side.

  “Better than that, if you don’t have anything to do this afternoon, maybe we can go to my house and kill a little time, then you can come to the lounge with me?” I gestured to the bags that filled my car with the scents of Thanksgiving. “We won’t starve.”

  He wrinkled his nose and my stomach flipped. Every move the man made had a visceral effect on me. “I usually am very careful with what I eat, but everything was so delicious, and it’s a holiday, right? I don’t break training often.”

  “I think it’s a law to eat yourself into a coma on Thanksgiving. Or at least a moral imperative.”

  His grin rewarded me for my sentiment. Although he hadn’t actually answered my question, I steered down the hill, heading for my place. I didn’t live far.

  But something he’d said had caught my attention. “I wasn’t aware counselors had to keep in training. I guess you get some wild kids?”

  He chuckled. “No. I participate in some competitions. Swimming, biking...running. Obstacle courses. Stuff like that.”

  I eyed him with even more appreciation. “Do you mean like the ninja shows on TV?”

  “Oh, do you watch them? I made it to the finals last year, but I didn’t win.” />
  Holy shit. Yeah, I watched it. It was my guilty pleasure. “I saw you.” And that meant I’d seen him in shorts and a tank and oh God. Talk about a perfect body.

  He bounced in his seat. “You did? I’m embarrassed. I almost made it to the end before my fingers slipped and —”

  “On the ninth obstacle. The spinning fountain. Nobody finished, right?” I pulled into the parking structure and turned off the engine.

  “No, but I was point three seconds behind the winner. Sucked.”

  “Are you competing this year?”

  “Sure. Did you want to come watch me work out sometime? I could teach you a few tricks.”

  I grimaced. “I don’t want to embarrass myself. And after that meal, I feel like I won’t even fit on the piano bench.”

  But his gaze held nothing but admiration. “Tonight, will you sing a song specially for me?”

  Chapter Four

  Kipling

  Having any kind of intimate conversation was nearly impossible in the Moonlight Lounge with my very own celebrity. He sat so close to me at the bar that our knees and thighs kept touching, yet I could barely hear a word he said, and that was in between people constantly approaching him.

  One man even slipped a piece of paper into his hands. Hal smiled at the guy, not the smile I knew, but very much the lounge smile, and after said man walked away, took the paper out of his pocket, crumpled it up, and missed the garbage can behind the bar. Still, the gesture impressed me.

  “Not interested in anyone but you,” he said, winking at me and squeezing my thigh. A flush of heat rushed through my chest. After getting back to his place, we’d gorged on pumpkin pie and some kind of mousse. I’d have to run double the next morning, but it was so worth it.

  Except Hal hadn’t made a move to kiss me and every cell in me wanted him to.

  He was sweet and funny and caring. I shivered once, while we were at his house, and before I knew it, he’d wrapped a blanket over my lap while he sang away.