Into the Gloaming

by Mercy Celeste

  “Orgasm,” Austin whispered, and a low, wretched moan rent the silence surrounding them. The sound had come from his own throat. His body responding instantly, as if Austin had commanded him to experience just that with only the sound of his voice.

  Heath dragged in a long breath to steady himself and forced his feet to move. One step, then two. Away from Austin’s so very tempting heat.

  He blinked, Austin did, lowering himself until he was flat on his feet again. He tucked one hand into a pocket hidden in the front of his sweater, his eyes lowered to the sidewalk. “I have to get back to work. Crates are arriving every day now. I have to catalog and sort everything before it’s displayed. It was nice seeing you again.”

  He didn’t walk away as Heath expected. He stood there looking at the ground, that one hand clenched in his pocket. The other wrapped around the cup so tightly the lid popped off. Heath dropped his cup, he didn’t care that it spilled over his boot. Or that he littered. He took the two steps worth of distance and lifted Austin’s chin with one finger. Austin let him, a soft sigh on his lips so tempting that Heath lowered his mouth to taste the sigh into oblivion.

  He heard the plop of another cup and Austin’s hands framed his face. Heath closed his eyes and opened his mouth to taste more of Austin’s heated…

  “Oh,” Austin whispered against his mouth, “You taste so sweet. Like chocolate.” And Heath knew he was lost. So very lost now.

  “So, do you,” Heath whispered back and stepped away again before he did something he couldn’t undo.

  Austin opened his eyes slowly. His long dark lashes were damp. “I’ve wondered what that would be like.”

  Heath shivered now that he’d lost Austin’s heat. “So, have I. So many nights.”

  Austin nodded, a faint tinge of red coloring his cheeks. “So… I have to go to work now.”

  “And I have to get home.” He hated that he had no other choice than to go right home when he wanted to stay.

  “Will I see you tomorrow?”

  Heath glanced at the tree sparkling in the window. He couldn’t answer that question. “Is it Christmas? I’ve been so busy I haven’t noticed the calendar.”

  “Next week. On Monday.” Austin didn’t seem to think his question odd.

  “Maybe,” he answered Austin’s question. “I hope to see you tomorrow. But some days I stay later.”

  Austin reached out a gloved hand and swiped his cheek. He didn’t say anything but Heath saw the sorrow in his eyes. “I’ll be here when you’re ready,” he said, and raced up the walkway to the manor house, the spilled chocolate forgotten.

  Heath picked up the cups and turned into the sunset, following it home one more time.

  Chapter Five

  Austin had three eager interns for the holiday break. All of them underfoot. He couldn’t complain, he needed the help but… but it had been days since that kiss and he hadn’t so much as laid eyes on Heath since.

  He couldn’t spend his evening watching out the window for the man to walk past. It didn’t mean he had to put on a smile and pretend it didn’t bother him that Heath hadn’t stopped by on his way home. Even once.

  The museum wasn’t open for business yet, this was true, but Heath could have taken a chance and knocked. Austin would have let him in and maybe given him the ten-cent tour. The ladies in the tearoom were always looking for new victims to try out their recipes on. That section of the house would open this weekend, just in time for Christmas.

  Austin couldn’t wait. He was getting fat on scones and clotted cream and had developed a loathing for tea in any form. The spiced cider, though, that was incredible. He’d have to make sure that stuck around. He added a bit of spiced rum to his cup. It was after hours. No one would know. He wasn’t driving. And it wasn’t enough to impair his abilities. Just make him forget his frustration for a certain enigmatic gentleman he wished would come calling.

  The doorbell rang, and he jumped and nearly tripped on the bundled-up plastic wrap he’d just pulled from an antique chair. The furniture was arriving almost hourly now, it seemed. They’d just taken a shipment of the pieces from the lady’s parlor and now another delivery.

  His interns had all gone to dinner. It could be one of them returning, forgetting they each had a key to the courtyard door.

  He stumbled over a rolled-up oriental rug and cursed whoever kept ringing the bell. Maybe he shouldn’t add spiced rum to spiced cider when he was still working.

  He made his way through the empty house, his curses echoing in the empty rooms. “This better be important—” He stopped short as the scent of something mouthwatering wafted to him.

  “Corned beef sandwich. But if you don’t want it, Your Crankiness, then I’ll take it back across the street and feed it to the alley cats.” Rory smirked at him from behind the heavy wool scarf he had wrapped around his neck, covering most of the lower half of his face.

  “Get in here, you wonderful person you,” Austin said, his stomach growling its approval of the peace offering. He almost grabbed his friend and dragged him inside.

  “How goes the unpacking?” Rory sidestepped the row of boxes that had come just after lunch and followed him inside to the room in the back that had been marked as his office. There had been no actual purpose for the room that Austin could ever determine. It was part of the new kitchen, added on in the early twentieth century, probably used as a pantry or as storage. There’d been no instructions for what to do with the room. They’d added modern bathrooms to the other half of the large room. Since this portion of the house wasn’t original, the historical society had approved.

  “Ugh,” Austin sighed and cleared the old farmhouse table that served as his desk. It was cluttered with papers and stacks of pictures to be sorted for display.

  “And the interns? There’ are a couple of hotties in the mix, if you ask me,” Rory teased as he unwrapped his scarf and pulled off his gloves.

  “They’re all girls.” Austin opened the mini-fridge and pulled out a bottle of Coke.

  “Still hot,” Rory said, smirking again. “You need to get laid.”

  Austin tried not to spew the sip of soda he’d just drank, nearly choking on it. “Are you offering your services?” He had to ask.

  Rory set the insulated delivery bag down on the desk in front of Austin’s chair. He didn’t meet Austin’s gaze. He seemed… guilty of something. “Oh my god, has it finally gotten to where I’m the only ass to be had? This does not bode well.”

  Rory pulled a chair up to the table and opened the bag. There were two wrapped sandwiches inside with potato soup and coleslaw. Austin went back for another soda and plastic spoons and plopped them down between them.

  “Okay, no joking around, spill it,” Austin demanded because a silent Rory was a strange and scary beast.

  Rory looked up finally. There was a touch of wildness to his eyes that Austin had never seen before. More than just being horny. “What do you know about the history of the pub? I mean, is that even something you would know? Is it part of this house… what word am I looking for? I don’t know what I’m asking.”

  Austin opened a sandwich and spread out the foil wrap to use as a plate. He didn’t have any paper plates left now that his interns had eaten him out of house and home. “Why?” He remembered that day about a month back when he’d been drunk and hallucinating in the men’s room. “Seen a wee ghostie or something?”

  Rory paled dramatically. “Not really. I mean. I haven’t seen anything. No one has reported seeing anything. But… it feels… off, sometimes. Like I’m not alone when I know I am. Like I’m being watched when I’m downstairs.”

  “But not upstairs?” Austin stopped teasing his friend. Rory wasn’t the type to run around screaming about ghosts.

  “No. I feel safe upstairs.” Rory unwrapped his sandwich and opened the two containers of sides and set them between them on the table.

  “But you don’t feel safe downstairs?” Austin rubbed the back of his neck. Sometimes he w
ondered if maybe he wasn’t alone in the house. Most of the time he got over it. He lived a life in the middle of the past. Of course, he’d see ghosts at every turn. Didn’t mean he believed. Just meant he couldn’t separate himself from his work sometimes.

  “No,” Rory admitted as he fiddled with his sandwich. “I mean, I don’t feel like I’ll be murdered or anything. I can’t explain it, Austin. And I feel foolish for even asking. I don’t believe in ghosts. But—”

  “But you’re spooked. And you’re not the kind who spooks. So it’s something.” Austin picked up his sandwich and bit into it while he watched Rory relax enough to do the same.

  “You believe me?” Rory asked after he swallowed.

  “It’s just you that’s noticed something off about the place, I take it?” Austin shoveled a spoonful of potato soup into his mouth.

  “Yeah, or at least no one else seems to notice anything. They haven’t said a damned thing if they have. And no one comes out of the kitchen looking like they’ve seen something. It’s just me.” Rory dipped into the slaw and chewed. He glanced at the stack of old photographs at the end of the table and blinked rapidly. “That’s the street we’re on. It looks completely different.”

  “Looked like most turn of the century small-town squares from this area did. A row of squat concrete block or brick buildings lining both sides of a street. There was a larger building down at the end where the parking lot is now, I think it was a hotel. A few more middle-class houses built after the second world war are here now. But this area is essentially the same. They did a decent job bringing it back. When I came last year to interview for the position most of the buildings were still pretty run down.”

  Rory nodded and leafed through the pictures. Austin reached over the table and slapped his hand. “Don’t touch. Finish eating. Then you can look. With gloves on.”

  Rory glanced at a photograph, his face going pale again, but he put it down without an argument. “Could you find out if there was ever anyone killed in the pub? I mean. Hell. I don’t know. It was a bar in a previous life. I know that much. It happens. But I swear to god that I’m being watched late at night. And sometimes, even before we open. When I’m the only one downstairs. Like someone is sitting at the bar, you know, being quiet and minding their own business until you forget they’re there. Like that. But…”

  “Bowler hat?” Austin felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle.

  “You thought there was a leprechaun wearing a bowler hat in the restroom. I thought you were drunk and thought nothing else about it.” Rory rubbed the back of his neck, his sandwich forgotten.

  “Have you seen someone wearing a bowler hat?” Austin wasn’t losing his appetite because his friend was seeing ghosts.

  “No.” Rory glanced back over at the stack of photos. “Have you? I mean… have you ever seen a ghost? You hang out in old places all the time. Do you ever feel like… your mind is playing tricks on you?” He looked at the ceiling and blinked. “This place has to be a hundred years old.”

  “Closer to a hundred fifty.” Austen dipped into the slaw and chewed. He rubbed his neck again, but only because Rory had spooked him. “I’ve never seen anything out of the ordinary. I’m here by myself late at night, and I live in what would have been part of servant housing and part stables. I never feel like I have company. I don’t see ghosts.”

  “I’m being foolish?”

  “No, absolutely not. Just because I don’t see or feel anything, means nothing. Some people don’t. Some do. Maybe… you’re homesick and looking for a reason to go back to Savannah.”

  “Savannah is chock full of damned ghosts and I never stumbled over one. Hell, our pub has been in the Callaghan family since the 1700s and I’ve never come across old uncle Seamus or any random patron haunting the place.”

  “Not saying you have or haven’t or that you’re not feeling something now, but… maybe… and I’m just making the same observation… you need to get laid.”

  “You’re saying I’m feeling buggy because I’m horny?”

  “Homesick or horny. Pick one, Roar, my friend.” Austen finished his sandwich and wadded up the wrapper. He left his friend sitting at the table and took their trash to the can by the window.

  He turned around to find Rory standing right behind him. A strange look in his eyes. Almost… dangerous. Rory didn’t blink, he crowded Austin, forcing him backward, he pressed Austin against the cold window.

  “Okay, what if I’m just horny… and we both need it. So…”

  Rory’s hands were very large, Austin noticed when he bracketed Austin’s face with those large hands. Their toes touched. He could feel Rory’s hot breath on his… he opened his mouth and let Rory in. He tasted of corned beef and slaw and… Rory stepped back as if he’d been burned by the kiss. Austin gripped the window ledge to keep from following him, his mouth still puckered from the kiss.

  Rory looked around, his eyes wild now. He stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets and settled his gaze on the floor. “I’m sorry.”

  Austin stayed where he was, gripping the window sill. His knees, wobbly, but not from lust or love or… maybe surprise and a touch of anger. “It’s okay,” he whispered. It wasn’t. Not really. He’d kissed his best friend, the one he loved more than anyone on the planet, and felt… nothing.

  “No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have. We’re friends. You’re right. About not fucking. Not sure… we wouldn’t work. Or…”

  “Stay friends afterward,” Austin finished for him. He’d always known casual sex with Rory would be a mistake.

  Rory nodded. He looked lost. And sad. “I… maybe…”

  “What?” Austin seriously wanted to know. He didn’t want secrets between them. “Just tell me. Nothing you say will ever change how I feel about you. You know that.”

  Rory finally met his gaze. His eyes were filled with rejection. “Maybe when you stopped pining for this guy who doesn’t know you’re alive… that… maybe… maybe we are supposed to be together. Maybe we’ve been waiting until we’re ready to settle down. I have the pub. It’s mine, and it’s doing well. Da approves. Of you, I mean. He always thought you were a good influence on me. And you have the dream job… and we’re together. So, it was time to see. But it’s not right, is it?”

  “Like kissing my brother.” Austin couldn’t phrase it any kinder. “I love you. With all my being. But… not as a lover. Or a husband.”

  “But you do want that? A husband, maybe… kids. One day.” Rory rubbed his neck again as if it ached.

  “I don’t know, Rory, I haven’t thought about it. Maybe.” The image of dark-haired, blue-eyed children flitted across his imagination. Children that looked like… the man he’d kissed once and had his world forever rocked. “Is that what you want? Marriage, kids?”

  Rory stared at him for a long moment. Silence stretching between them almost like… an abyss created by a kiss that should never have happened. “No,” he said finally. “I… really don’t. I want… a partner, I guess. Someone to talk to and sleep with and sex when I need it. But… I don’t want marriage or kids. I want…”

  Me? Austin reached for his hand and held it tight in his own. “One day, when we’re… if… kiss me again, see how it feels. One day.”

  Taking his hand back, Rory spun on his heel. He left his scarf and gloves and hurried out of the house, his retreating footsteps pounding to the beat of Austin’s racing heart.

  Chapter Six

  The bell rang again not long after Rory left. The scent of his cologne still redolent in the air.

  Austin pushed himself off the windowsill and picked his way back to the door, expecting to find Rory. He grabbed his scarf and gloves on the way by. He’d return the food carrier later.

  “Next time, don’t run off like a scared rabbit.” He threw open the door, but it wasn’t Rory standing there in the cold without gloves or scarf or even a jacket. His hair was black as night under the porch lights, his eyes a smoky blue that churned with a storm of e
motions. “Oh, my.”

  Heath stood frozen on the step, his hair whipping around his head as the wind picked up. He said nothing at all. His gaze locked with Austin’s. He looked so lost. Like… “What happened?” Austin thought the worst. “Is it Rory? Did something happen to Rory?”

  The smoke in Heath’s eyes swirled, growing darker as Austin watched. “What day is it?” He asked instead of answering.

  “Saturday,” Austin said, tucking Rory’s scarf to his chest as if it would save him from whatever this was.

  “No, the date? What is the date? I have to know.” That didn’t make a damn bit of sense. Why didn’t he know what day it was?

  “December twenty-third,” Austin answered again, watching as the man’s hands clenched into fists in his pockets.

  “And tomorrow is Christmas Eve? On Sunday?” Heath seemed to grow more agitated as Austin watched. He snatched one hand out of his pocket and raked it through his wild mane of hair. When had it gotten so long? “You’re sure?”

  “Fairly, certain.” He didn’t want to be a smart ass with Heath, not yet.

  Heath looked as if he was unsure of himself or what to do next. Was he running from something? Or someone? “The sun has set.”

  “So it seems.” Austin crossed his arms over his chest to ward off the cold that whipped in with the wind. “A storm is coming.”

  Heath nodded, he looked… scared. “I have nowhere else to go. May I come inside?”

  There were so many questions Austin should have asked. So much he needed to know about this man. The kiss they’d shared the only thought in his head. He pulled the door open wider and stepped to the side. “Yes, absolutely, come in. Get warm. I was about to make coffee. I can order something to eat.”