Change of Address

by Jordan S. Brock

  Josh took a deep breath, bracing himself. “Then . . . mind if I ask you a few questions?”

  “Go for it.” Michael smiled encouragingly.

  Here goes nothing. “My accountant wants me to come up with a business plan . . .”

  Evening darkened the sky by the time Josh walked into the pizza place. Michael beckoned him over to the table and tried to ignore the way his heart lurched. Just the sight of Josh filled him with warmth, melting the tension out of his shoulders and spine.

  “Did you bring your laptop?” he asked, trying to remain businesslike despite the smile tugging at his lips.

  “Got it.” Instead of taking the seat across from Michael, Josh stopped next to him, first glancing at Kaylee under the table. He moved Michael’s glass of water out of the way, then put his backpack down on the table, shoving everything else off to one side. When he let go of the straps, he braced a hand on the table and leaned toward Michael.

  Yes! Michael indulged in his grin and stretched to accept Josh’s offered kiss, right there in the pizza place. So much for being afraid the locals would all turn out to be homophobes. The kiss tasted sweet, like peppermint candy, and Michael couldn’t resist a quick lick at Josh’s lips despite the public setting.

  When Josh sat down, his cheeks were flushed. “You, uh, don’t have a laptop of your own?” he asked, unzipping the backpack.

  Michael shook his head, a little surprised that he didn’t feel a jolt of anxiety at the question. He really was getting comfortable with Josh. “No. I couldn’t read for like a year and a half, so I didn’t bother buying one.”

  Josh froze except for his startled blink. “You—” He bit his lip and slid the laptop out of the bag. “I understand. I, uh, sometimes have trouble reading.”

  “Do you need glasses?” Michael guessed, remembering to get his eyeglass case out of his bag. “I needed mine before I got shot. They’re only for close up. I can’t do laser surgery because of the”—he forgot the word, but rather than struggling to find or explain it, he waved a hand—“whatever. Starts with an a.”

  Josh shrugged as if he didn’t know what Michael was talking about. “Maybe. I haven’t had my eyes tested since elementary school, I think. I just . . .” He moved the backpack onto a spare chair so he could make room for the laptop. He slid it over to Michael. “Do you mind? If we’re going to take notes, it’ll probably be easier if you do it.”

  “Sure, no problem.” Michael pushed open the lid and hit the power button, then got his glasses out of the case. “Is there wi-fi here, or do I need to use my phone as a hotspot?”

  Josh winced. “Yeah, probably the phone. Otherwise, we’ll have to give the library a try tomorrow. I think there’s internet there. The town board was talking about open wi-fi in some public places—the town hall, the green and some parks, the beach—but I think it was too expensive. What do we need internet for?”

  By the time the rush of words ended, the laptop had booted, not to a password screen but to the start menu. Years of Air Force training had Michael prepared to give a lecture, until he met Josh’s eyes—and noticed the way he was staring. Self-consciously, Michael touched his glasses and asked, “What? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” Josh blurted, turning fully away toward the counter. “Your, uh . . . They look good. Really good. Did you want a refill? Or some pizza?”

  He was adorably flustered, but why? Was it the glasses? Hiding his smirk at the thought, Michael touched the glasses again, settling them into place, and met Josh’s eyes. “I ordered us a small pizza to split. Pepperoni okay?”

  “Fine. Yeah.” Josh gestured at the laptop. “So, the internet?”

  “Right.” Michael got out his phone and unlocked it, then started working out how to configure it as a hotspot. “We’re going to work online, so everything we do is automatically backed up to the cloud. Less chance of losing anything. How was the rest of your day?”

  “Good. Busy. We have a big catering order in a couple weeks.”

  Michael darted a look at Josh to confirm he was still staring. Definitely the glasses. “Anything interesting?”

  “Library fund-raiser brunch. Tickets are around twenty-five bucks.”

  “Huh.” Michael frowned, thinking about his trust fund. He’d set up automatic charitable donations when he turned twenty-five, but maybe it was time to take a more active hand in things. He’d have to find out how much support the local library got from the local government. “Want to go?”

  Josh laughed. “I am going. Someone’s got to serve up those bagels.”

  Michael grinned and nudged him under the table. The movement made Kaylee wag her tail, though she didn’t stand up. “Okay, want to hang out with me after the bagels are all gone?”

  “Well . . .” Josh drew out the word, leaning back in his chair. “I suppose. If I don’t get a better offer, that is.”

  Laughing, Michael asked, “Better than me?”

  “It is a library,” Josh pointed out. “It could be full of hot librarians. And while you might look the part, you’re—”

  “Aha!” Michael interrupted. “You do like the glasses.”

  Josh’s face flushed, but his grin didn’t disappear. “Yeah, yeah, okay,” he admitted. “I like the glasses.”

  Not a one-night stand, Michael reminded himself, though he was tempted. Damned tempted. Coax Josh back to the barn, show him a fantastic night . . . It wouldn’t even have to be just one night. They’d gone on a couple of dates. Or one disaster, one date, and one working dinner. Sex didn’t mean the end of the relationship. It could be the beginning.

  “So, where do we start?” Josh asked, startling Michael out of his speculation.

  “The—” he began before he went blank. The thing on the computer. The thing for Josh’s bagel place. The thing he couldn’t remember the word for, because he couldn’t think over the sudden pounding of his heart.

  But instead of stammering out all the words that did come to mind in hopes of luring out the right word, he pushed the computer an inch back, making room for him to brace his forearm against the edge of the table. With his other hand, he touched Josh’s face, tracing over scattered stubble and soft skin, sliding back to bury his fingers in Josh’s hair. Josh’s eyes had gone wide, and when his lips parted, Michael leaned closer.

  Josh had said he didn’t care if they were in public, and Michael . . . Michael felt safe here, as safe as he’d been in the dark parking lot where they shared their first kiss. The heat of the pizza ovens was cut by the cold evening wind off the ocean blowing through the windows, bringing a salty tinge to air heavy with oregano and garlic. Kaylee was a warm weight across Michael’s feet, tail swishing lazily over the floor.

  Michael curled his fingers around Josh’s nape, drawing him in, and silenced his exhale with a kiss. The world fell away under the soft press of Josh’s lips, the hot brush of his tongue, the way his breath hitched. When the kiss ended, Josh blinked his eyes open, one corner of his mouth twitching up.

  “What was that for?”

  Instead of coming up with a coherent answer, Michael’s brain stuttered and caught up to itself about a minute too late. “Business plan.”

  Josh gave a short little laugh. “Are you going for ‘hot accountant’ instead of ‘hot librarian’?”

  With anyone else, Michael would’ve stammered out an excuse and run off. With Josh, though, Michael just shook his head and said, “Business plan first. And pizza.”

  Josh’s smile turned sly. Heated. “And then?” he asked, lowering his voice.

  There it was, the invitation Michael had known he could coax out of Josh. Two hours to write up a business plan outline and finish dinner. Ten minutes to get Josh to the privacy of the barn behind the family vacation house. It would be nothing like DC—not a quick blowjob in the men’s room or rutting together in an alley. Michael would take his time learning Josh’s body, discovering what he liked, making him gasp and cry out. It would mean something.

  “Tonight�
��”

  “Shit,” Josh interrupted, looking away before he rubbed at his eyes.

  Michael’s heart lodged in his throat. “What?” he asked, body going tense, braced against the rejection that had to be coming.

  “I open tomorrow. It’s my dad’s day off,” Josh said with a groan.

  He’s not done with me. Relief made Michael smile despite his disappointment. “We’re calling it an early night, then?”

  Shoulders slumped, Josh scooted his chair closer and put his hand on Michael’s arm. “I’m sorry. It’s just, if I don’t get at least seven hours, I’m worthless. And you do not want me operating ovens if I’m half-asleep.”

  “Then I promise I’ll get you home early.” Michael covered Josh’s hand with his own and smiled—genuinely, to his surprise. As much as he wanted Josh to himself, he had time. They both did.

  “You sure you don’t want a cup of coffee?”

  Michael smiled faintly up at the waiter, Duke, and shook his head. “It’s too late for caffeine.”

  “Milk shake?” Duke asked hopefully, refilling Michael’s water glass for the third time.

  “He’ll be here any minute.” Michael tried to sound certain, but it came out a little too hopeful. Pathetic. And for no good reason. Josh was coming here straight from work. There’d probably just been a problem. Paperwork or something. If the last couple of weeks had taught Michael anything, it was that Josh hated paperwork.

  With an understanding smile, Duke said, “Take your time,” before he walked away.

  Michael drummed his fingers on his phone, then flicked the power on to check the time. Thirty-two minutes. He resisted the urge to bang his head on the table. Barely.

  But then the door opened, and Michael straightened, looking over in time to see Josh walk in and glance around. When their eyes met, Josh smiled tiredly and headed right for the back of the diner, where Michael had taken what was fast becoming his usual table.

  “Have I mentioned how much I hate opening?” Josh asked as he dropped next to Michael instead of sitting across the booth.

  The diner was empty except for a family of early-season tourists, not that a crowd would’ve stopped Michael from wrapping an arm around Josh’s shoulders to give him a comforting hug. “Want coffee?”

  Josh groaned, dropping his head onto Michael’s shoulder. “I have to sleep tonight because I have to open tomorrow. And the next day, and the next.”

  Michael kissed the top of Josh’s head. “Switching up your schedule again? Don’t tell me you have another special early-morning customer . . .”

  “Dad ran off to Brooklyn.” Josh sat back up, sighing at the effort, and leaned in close for a sweet kiss. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” Michael whispered against Josh’s lips, all the irritation and worry and self-doubt vanishing like smoke.

  He had no idea how long they sat there, smiling across the bare inch of air that separated them, before a quiet cough sent a jolt of adrenaline right through Michael. He flinched back with a sharp inhale, eyes wide, and it took him a second to recognize Duke, who had a hand up in apology.

  “Hey. Uh.” Duke shot Josh a tight smile. “Did you . . .”

  Kaylee sat up under the table a moment too late, but he’d never trained her to alert him to serving staff. Sensing how his nerves were jangling, she shoved her head between his thighs and the underside of the table and pushed against him, looking up with love in her deep-brown eyes. Distantly, he heard Josh and Duke talking—they seemed to know each other—but all Michael cared about was that he was safe. Josh was here, Kaylee was here, and Duke wasn’t a threat. Michael focused on reminding himself of that, scratching behind Kaylee’s ears until Duke left again.

  Then Josh’s hand slid over Michael’s thigh, fingertips brushing Kaylee’s muzzle. “You okay?”

  There was no condemnation in his voice. No mocking. Just patient understanding. Michael nodded and let the touch ground him further. “Yeah.” He summoned up a smile, adding, “It’s your fault.”

  Josh blinked. “What?”

  Michael kissed Josh’s cheek and let his voice drop to barely above a whisper. “You’re distracting.”

  Josh’s fingers twitched hard against Michael’s thigh. “Oh.” He laughed nervously, then said, “Of course I am. I’m awesome.”

  That deserved another kiss, though Michael was too keyed up to lose himself in it, which meant that when Duke returned with a second glass of water, Michael didn’t jump out of his skin. Duke was flushed and anxious looking, but there was no hostility in his expression. No sense of Ew, guys kissing.

  “Do, uh,” Duke stammered. “Do you guys know what you want?” As soon as the question was out, the blush went even darker, and he deliberately turned to Josh, not Michael, as if pleading for a rescue.

  Michael bit back a laugh, but he let the innuendo pass without comment. “Burgers, right?” he asked Josh. “And steak fries?”

  Josh’s smile was full of gratitude. “Yes. Bacon double cheeseburger for me.”

  “Two,” Michael said.

  “Don’t forget the steak fries. Lots of fries,” Josh added. “Oh, and a chocolate chip milk shake.”

  Duke darted a quick glance Michael’s way. “Regular or to, uh, share?”

  “Share,” Michael said, just as Josh said, “Regular.”

  Josh grinned and held up one hand; the other remained on Michael’s thigh. “Share it is.”

  Smiling once again, Duke picked up the menus. “I’ll have that right up for you.”

  As Duke walked away, Michael turned to face Josh a bit more, though he tried not to pull away from Josh’s hand. “Speaking of having things, do you have the—”

  Josh cut Michael off with a groan. “The numbers. Shit. I forgot to email Lizzie.”

  Michael’s disappointed sigh wasn’t entirely genuine. “We’re almost done with the business plan,” he reminded Josh. Of course, that also meant they were almost out of excuses for nightly working dates. “All we need are the numbers.”

  “Here, let me . . .” Josh made room on the table, then pulled his laptop out of his backpack. “I’ll email her right now. I just . . . With Dad gone, it’s like everything is ten times more complicated, and I was doing interviews through lunch to try and hire more summer help.”

  “You skipped lunch?” Michael forgot all about finishing the business plan. He was so used to Josh’s instinctive need to feed and take care of him, it hadn’t occurred to him to do the same for Josh.

  “I had half a bagel between interviews.” Josh shook his head, staring blankly at the laptop as it booted. “We need another shift manager or two. Dee and I are going to be wrecked by the time Dad gets home, what with the catering gig in three days.”

  Josh needed a break. Deliberately, Michael closed the laptop and pushed it away. When Josh turned curiously, Michael rubbed his hand up Josh’s back, slow and firm, and dug his fingers into the tense muscles at Josh’s nape. Over Josh’s contented sigh, he said, “After the catering gig, it’s just you, me, and a whole library full of excuses to wear my reading glasses.”

  Josh snorted, trying to choke back a laugh. “Oh my God. I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

  Michael leaned against Josh’s side and pressed a kiss to the curve of his ear, making him shudder. “I hope not. I was going to order a couple of extra pairs, just in case this one breaks.”

  Dad’s vacation was going to be the death of Josh. Two days after the sleepy, business-plan-free date at the diner, Josh’s to-do list had grown exponentially, and he’d ticked off exactly one item. This morning, in the lull between the Millers’ morning coffee and the start of rush, he’d emailed Lizzie to get those numbers, and that was only because Michael had given him a disappointed-puppy look at the pizza place last night.

  But that one accomplishment was enough—especially when he was consumed with prepping for tomorrow’s catering order. The instant his afternoon crew came in, he retreated to the kitchen and lost himself in making batch afte
r batch of bagels and flatbreads. In the intervals of rising and baking, he chopped herbs and vegetables, then whipped up tubs of flavored cream cheese.

  He stopped only for the lunch rush, then went back to the kitchen as soon as things started to die down. But the next time the oven dinged, he checked the time, and . . . Shit! He should’ve been on his way out the door already, heading to wherever tonight’s date was.

  He almost burned his wrist on the edge of the oven door as he pulled out the baking tray. A quick flip sent the bagels onto a cooling rack, and Josh was free to bolt for the office. “I’m off! Shop’s all yours, Dee!” he shouted, ducking his head to escape his apron.

  “Got it, boss!” Dee yelled from up front, which she probably shouldn’t have done in front of customers, but whatever. The customers probably wouldn’t care. The shop was casual like that.

  He hung his apron and shoved today’s bright-blue polo shirt into his backpack, making a mental note to do laundry later tonight so he didn’t end up catering for a bunch of stuffy librarians and stuffier donors in his underwear. Michael could pull it off, but not Josh. Not without losing a good thirty pounds and doing something horrible, like stomach crunches.

  And that thought filled his stomach with a flock of all-too-familiar butterflies. Cuddling and holding hands and kissing were all well and good, but at some point in this relationship, the pants were going to come off. Would Michael still find Josh appealing without the support of a good waistband holding back a percentage of those extra pounds?

  So much for getting up the courage to invite Michael over tonight. Maybe tomorrow—which was what Josh had been telling himself ever since Dad went to Brooklyn. But this time, tomorrow was a good idea. Michael would hopefully be in a cheerful mood after the event at the library, however stuffy the other attendants would surely be. And Josh had put extra effort into the everything bagels. The roast beef, lox, and smoked turkey would all be sliced fresh. The chili and chicken soup would be piping hot and spiced to perfection.