by Andrew Grey
I ended up in the Grill, a small diner, and saw a table near the window. It was the only one available, but it hadn’t been cleared yet. I sat anyway because in New York, you snagged a table first and worried about the rest later.
“Excuse.”
The voice was very familiar, and I looked up into Luka’s eyes. “You work here too?” I asked.
He paused and then nodded as he cleared the dishes into a tub. “They very nice.” He set the tub of dishes aside and cleaned the table, moving quickly before resetting the table.
“Luka,” a woman snapped impatiently, pointing to another table, and he hurried away with his dish tub. “Was he bothering you?”
I squinted, trying to figure out what I’d just witnessed. “Of course not. I saw him earlier today and I was saying hello.” Man, that was a little over-the-top. Maybe this wasn’t the place where I wanted to have lunch.
“He gets distracted easily and is always tired.” She huffed softly. “But that isn’t your problem.” She handed me a menu. “I’m Amy and I’ll be taking care of you.” She took my drink order for a Coke and walked away.
What struck me was how inappropriate she was. Luka worked for her, and part of her job was to treat him properly. It was clear she thought he was beneath her.
I looked over the menu and then watched as Luka took the tub to the back and returned with an empty one. He continued clearing tables and setting them back up, saying nothing to anyone. No one seemed to pay him any mind in his floppy apron and ill-fitting uniform, like he wasn’t even there. Amy pointed at him and then at another table. Luka nodded, finished, and then hurried to the next one as the tables filled with more people.
She returned, bringing my drink, and I ordered a roast beef sandwich with fries. I thought she was pleasant enough to me as a customer, but when she kept glaring at Luka, I was forced to alter my opinion. I caught her eye, and she motioned her head toward Luka. “He doesn’t even speak English.” Amy wiped a spot on the table that I didn’t even see. “Boss hired him and I gotta work with him.”
I kept my mouth closed, hoping she’d leave. Maybe it was the fact that I lived in New York and not in a small town, but I encountered people who spoke limited English all the time. There was no need to look down on someone for that. I thought of talking to the owner but wasn’t sure if Luka would appreciate that or not.
I turned away, sipping the soda, wishing I had something to do.
“Luka,” the waitress snapped again, as a man came out from the back. “He needs to clear that table,” she said to him, pointing as though it had been sitting empty for an hour when actually the people had just gotten up. A scowl formed on the man’s face. He scanned the restaurant, then turned toward me, and I met his gaze, tilting my head for him to come over.
“What can I do for you?”
“She’s been on him the entire time I’ve been here. Those people just got up from that table, and she’s snapped at him and even told me how she doesn’t like him. I don’t know what she has against him, but I don’t think Luka is the problem.” I met her gaze over the man’s shoulder. “And please check my order and ask another server to take care of me.” I didn’t want her spitting in my food or something.
He turned to his server, who was doing her best to look busy. “I see. I hired him a few days ago and….”
I nodded. “I’m Jonah—Samuel James’s nephew, if that means anything to you. Luka works for me out at Ashford Cemetery as a groundskeeper and he does a great job out there.”
“Jason. My wife and I are the owners.” He sighed and glanced at Luka. “He works hard. I can’t argue with that.”
“At least you know the score and can decide what action you want to take.”
He tapped the table twice, as though thinking. “True. Thank you for coming forward. And please visit us again. I’ll check on your food.”
Jason smiled and hurried back toward the kitchen, and I noticed that when the server went into the back, she didn’t come out again for quite a while. A much younger lady, probably about college age, brought my food with a smile rather than a scowl. I thanked her and ate my sandwich. It was good, and I was hungry.
I received a message from Emma, asking if we could meet at one on Sunday. I agreed and then hunted for Luka, motioning him over when I saw him.
“Yes,” he said gently.
“Can you come to the cemetery at one on Sunday?” I wasn’t sure how much English he knew, so I tried to speak plainly and hoped he understood.
“Sunday, cemetery, one.” Luka smiled and nodded, then turned to go back to work.
I finished my lunch and then left the restaurant, not knowing what I was going to do next.
Chapter 3
BY SUNDAY morning I was really going stir-crazy. I’d been through the house from top to bottom. Uncle Samuel had really nice, beautiful items in the home, but the rest of it was relatively uncluttered. The attic held a few boxes, and the basement was clean and completely organized. I’d walked to town a few times just for something to do, and I’d been through the yard as well. I read on my Kindle until my eyes crossed, and I found myself looking forward to my meeting at the cemetery just because other people would be there.
I snatched my phone off the table when it vibrated. “Hey, Chet. Have you heard anything about a part?”
“No,” Chet answered glumly.
“Then get on a train and come on down here. The house has plenty of room, and if I sit alone for much longer, I’m going to go out of my mind.” I was seconds from screaming at the walls.
“I can’t. You know I’d love to come to the wilds of nowhere and spend time with you, but my sister called yesterday and guilted me into coming to New Jersey to spend time with her, Raymond, and Susanna. My niece and nephew even got on the phone and asked me to come, so I can’t disappoint them.”
I couldn’t argue with him, which only pissed me off more. I hated it when Chet was reasonable—it happened so seldom.
“Fine. I’ll stick it out here for a little while more and then make arrangements to come back to the city.” I was getting ready to go home, but the funeral was tomorrow. Maybe I could convince the Historical Society to take over the cemetery? Then I could leave everything in Charles’s hands and get the hell out of town and back to my own life—which, from the letter he sent me, was what Uncle Samuel wanted. Hell, it was what I wanted.
“There’s no need to be pissy. It can’t be all that bad…. They have restaurants there, and grocery stores. You can shop at Amazon and get anything you want shipped.”
“I don’t know anyone here. Everything is quiet… too quiet.” I sighed. “Dammit, I’m bored.”
“And whiny. Let’s not forget whiny.” Chet laughed outright. “You sound like a kid. So you’re bored. Whose fault is that? Find something to do. You have a house and all kinds of stuff there. You’re not in the city, you realize. Those people aren’t jaded and too scared or insulated to get to know the people who live near them. Go out and introduce yourself, get to know people.”
“That’s not a bad idea.”
“You sound surprised.” Chet, however, sounded affronted, and I could picture him with his arms crossed over his chest, lower lip protruding just enough to be pouty. “I have good ideas and you know it.”
“More like a blind squirrel gets a nut once in a while.”
“Har-har. Remind me why in the hell I’m friends with you?”
“Because I know so much about you, including all the stuff you don’t want your sister to know. Just like you know all my crap. And it’s why I miss you.”
After working together for the last year, I’d gotten used to seeing my best friend every day. Once we moved on to different shows, it was going to be hard to go back to infrequent meetings when our schedules allowed. I always felt better after talking to Chet, and this was no exception.
“I need to get ready to go to my sister’s.”
“And I have to meet a lady about a cemetery.” God, I never th
ought I’d say something like that. “Have fun at your sister’s.”
“And you have a good time with your cemetery lady.” Chet was still laughing as he hung up the phone.
I checked the time, then went up to my room to change into clothes I didn’t mind getting dirty. I’d been to the store, so I made a salami sandwich and sat in Uncle Samuel’s kitchen with a glass of ice water.
The silence was deafening. At home there was constant noise, but here I heard nothing. Even the clocks that had been running when I’d arrived had stopped their ticking, and I was afraid to touch them in case I damaged something. I kept telling myself that I’d get used to it, and I probably would. It was sure easy enough to get used to all this space. This home was thousands of square feet, with two and a half baths and even what used to be a maid’s quarters on the third floor. The guest room I was using was bigger than what I had lived my entire life in, and damn, it was almost luxurious to wake up and not take half a step into the bathroom.
I checked the clock again and realized I’d sort of zoned out. I was going to be late if I didn’t get moving. Dishes went into the sink, and after grabbing the keys, I raced out to the car and zoomed away down the street. I arrived at the cemetery just in time.
“Jonah,” Emma said as I opened the door. “I’m so very excited.”
There was no hint of falsehood. How did anyone get excited about a cemetery? Obviously, she did.
“I’m glad.” A tall figure rounded the corner. Luka. I waved as he approached. “This is our groundskeeper, Luka. I asked him to join us here in case we needed some help. The growth is very thick.”
Luka raised his hand in greeting, saying nothing. Once again, his arms bulged out of a light blue T-shirt, and his jeans seemed painted on, hugging his hips and framing a butt to make the gods blush, and I had a hard time keeping my train of thought as the blood rushed away from my brain.
“Shall we?” Emma asked, and I nodded and led the way to what I was referring to in my mind as “the jungle.”
Luka walked past us, forging ahead to the back edge of the thickest brush where a trail seemed to usher a way inside. He pulled a branch aside and I stepped under the canopy, with Emma behind me. Luka pulled two pairs of gloves out of his back pocket and handed me one. I thanked him and put them on, picking my way carefully through the growth. Vines covered nearly the entire floor, growing over everything.
“Be careful where you step,” I told Emma, pulling the vines away from a stone. “There have to be dozens of markers in here.”
“I can see that.” She pointed, and before I could clear the marker, Luka hurried over, crouched down, and freed the stone from the tangle. “This one is barely legible, but I bet we could rub it to get the information off it.”
Luka pulled the vines away from the next one. This was a piece of gray stone, etched deeply, still clearly legible, with the death in 1801.
“This is a treasure trove.” Emma looked around in wonder, smiling.
It grew darker under the canopy, and I looked up through the leaf cover overhead. “How do we proceed?” I asked her. “I’m not interested in owning a cemetery, and I was wondering if the Historical Society would be willing to take this over.”
She shook her head. “That isn’t part of our mission, and we aren’t equipped to run what is essentially a separate business. But I will definitely go back to the membership and see if we have people who would be interested in helping you clean this area up.”
Oh well. It was worth a shot. “I’d appreciate that.”
“I help,” Luka said, nodding. “Samuel ask me to help clean out, but then died.”
“Some of these scrub trees are awfully big.” Emma pointed to the canopy overhead, where large, bush-type trees provided shade.
“And we can’t risk felling anything in case it damages what’s underneath,” I agreed. “I think we need to clear out the undergrowth first, find out what’s here, and then we can decide what to do with the rest.” Clearing out the tangles would make the entire place more desirable. I hoped. Maybe one of the churches in town would want to take over, especially if I donated everything to them.
The wind came up, blowing the leaves and branches overhead. “I’ll see what I can help organize,” Emma promised as she ran her fingers over a marker labeled 1809. “This has a huge potential to yield some information about the town’s early years.” She rocked from foot to foot. “I’ll definitely be in touch by midweek.” She thanked me and picked her way out.
Luka hurried away, returned with a pair of loppers, and started to clip off branches and toss them in a pile. Apparently he was anxious to get started. He cut a swath into the undergrowth that expanded as he took out seedlings and sapling trees. Since I had nothing better to do, I hauled what he cut out toward the back, where we’d cut up the branches from the storm.
I looked upward as the light faded some more and the wind built once again, rustling the leaves. Moisture gathered in the air, and a rumble of thunder heralded the coming rain. Luka cut faster, and I continued hauling until I felt drops. I went over to Luka and tapped him on the shoulder. He jumped a little as I touched him.
A crack of thunder communicated what I wanted to say better than I could. Luka nodded as the sky opened up. The trees overhead kept us dry for a few seconds. He grabbed my hand, and we raced toward the back. We emerged from under the trees, drenched to the skin in seconds. My clothes clung to me, and I shivered. I intended to make for the car, but Luka tugged me the other way, toward a small shed in the very corner of the cemetery. He yanked the door open and we bolted inside before closing the door to the wind and wet.
Not that it really mattered. I couldn’t possibly get much wetter. Water ran down my back and legs, the denim chafing with each step. Not that there was a dang thing I could do except make the best of it.
We were in the equipment shed. The lawn mower took up space near the back, and shelves with tools lined one wall, while shovels and other equipment hung from hooks on the opposite wall.
A paper bag sat on the workbench. Luka grabbed it, and then, to my shock, surprise, and delight, he tugged off his wet shirt and dropped it to the floor. A dusting of black hair bisected Luka’s chest, spreading out to his pecs, thinning down his belly to a delicious treasure trail. He was in perfect proportion, a body built through hard work and labor. He wasn’t a gym rat; I’d seen plenty of those. These were pure man’s muscles, and I wanted to touch him, stroke him, feel the power waiting under his rich, sun-kissed skin.
Luka reached into the bag and began pulling out clothes. For a second, confusion built. Duh! Of course Luka would keep extra clothes here in case he needed them.
He passed me a dry T-shirt, and I tugged off my wet one, thanking him. I was about to pull the dry shirt on when Luka toed off his shoes. Then, to my renewed surprise, he dropped his pants, and I knew I’d have jerking material for the rest of my life. Luka’s perfection didn’t stop at his jeans, and his ass was the perfect bubble I’d imagined. He stepped out of his pants and turned slightly, stretching to reach into the bag. He pulled out a pair of shorts, handed them to me, and got a second pair, hiding the view as he stepped into them.
At that moment thinking became completely impossible. My mind was occupied with replaying what I’d just seen. I glanced down to make sure I wasn’t embarrassing myself, then spun away and changed as quickly as possible, trying not to betray the rigid state of affairs. When I turned around, Luka stood inches from me. How a man that big could move that silently was beyond me.
“I see you,” he growled deeply, and I shivered.
“Excuse me…,” I replied automatically, color rising to my cheeks. I hated the fact that I blushed all the damn time. It was childish and gave away what I was thinking.
“I see you… watching me,” he repeated a little lower. His voice rumbled just a bit more, right to the pit of my stomach and then traveling lower, igniting my dick, which had gone to sleep at the thought of supreme embarrassment but now te
nted my shorts. Please don’t look down. Please don’t look…. He glanced down, and that was shot to hell. All I could hope was that he didn’t either chuck me out of the building or beat the shit out of me. I blinked, bracing myself, waiting.
He moved closer. The heat of his body rolled over me as thunder shook the shed. He leaned closer, reaching out. I expected the blossom of pain, was ready for it. Instead, he inched forward and kissed me. It was sweet and maybe a little tentative. I wasn’t expecting it at all and was slow to react. When I did, pressing my lips to his, Luka deepened the kiss, sliding his hand around the back of my neck, tugging me closer. It was sensational, a burst of heat and testosterone that shot the temperature through the roof.
Steamy didn’t begin to describe the sensation of Luka holding me close.
The shed was small, the air thick and growing closer by the second. The rain continued, pelting the roof like the ever-quickening beat of my heart. Sweat broke out all over me, and I pulled back for a second. Confusion reigned in Luka’s eyes and he lowered his gaze. I could almost feel the questions about what he’d done wrong. This was a bad idea, and yet I didn’t care in the least. I threw my arms around his neck, yanking him to me once again. Luka’s arms encircled my waist, and he pulled our hips together. My cock met his as our lips crashed in a blaze of heat.
Spice burst on my tongue. Whatever Luka had eaten for lunch flavored his lips and mouth, adding to the overtone of musk that drove me completely wild. I clung to him with everything I had, returning his kiss with as much energy as I received. This man tasted like none other I’d ever experienced. I’d kissed men before, plenty of them, but none with Luka’s wild, almost frenetic blend of fusion and magnetism, push and pull at the same time, a perfect balance that left me breathless and my knees shaking.
When Luka pulled away, I missed him immediately. It took a second for the kissing haze to evaporate and my mind to kick into gear once again.
“Why?”
Luka smiled, big, a flash of white in the dimness. “I see you looking. Did you like?” He looked downward, and judging by the state of our shorts, we both had.