“Even if you could afford them, and you can’t, I won’t. Those are for the tenants only. No exceptions.”
He didn’t want to press his luck and risk that—despite the promise of one thousand favors—she might renege on Berringer’s. As she’d walked away, her heels clicking against the polished tile, Aidan tried to think. He needed those tickets. Dinner was one thing, dinner was good, but it was the mention of Jay Joseph that had really seemed to impress Patrick.
And he had to impress Patrick. He so wanted this friendship.
<<< >>>
Jill was wrong. Berringer’s was anything but lack-luster. While it was certainly popular, it wasn’t overcrowded. The hostess seated Patrick and Aidan in a little out-of-the-way cove, near enough to people-watch but still far enough away to give them a sense of privacy. Twinkle lights and naked bulbs hung from the ceiling and across the room, a man played the piano, to the delight of those waiting to eat.
“Never had French,” Aidan admitted after they’d ordered their wine.
“I think you’ll enjoy it. The French know their food. It’s as much about visual appeal as it is about taste.”
Aidan had the Prince Edward Island muscles (which weren’t called that on the menu, though he couldn’t have pronounced the French correctly to save his life) and Patrick ordered duck confit and they awkwardly joked that there were no prices on the menu which meant they might have to dine and dash. This, of course, got them talking about dining and dashing and pranks they’d pulled when they were younger.
“Before my mam got sick, I gave her all sorts of trouble,” Patrick admitted lightly. “When I was a lad, I thought I’d be some sort of stuntman, y’know? The sort that does the chase scenes or gets set on fire in the movies?”
“You set yourself on fire, didn’t you?”
Patrick held up his freckled arms which seemed to be unscarred. “Only singed my eyebrows a bit.”
Not to be outdone, Aidan said, “Nadia stole something once and I took the fall.”
“What?”
Oh man, he hadn’t thought about that in forever! He covered his mouth as the smile threatened to crack his face. It took a moment to get himself under control. “Tampons,” he said. “Our mother didn’t want her to use tampons—thought a lady should use pads or something.”
Patrick raised an eyebrow.
“I don’t know. Our mother was always a little bit weird. So anyway, Nadia asks me to play lookout for her and then she shoves a box of tampons into her jacket and one into mine. Next thing I know, we’re running. They didn’t catch her, but they caught me.”
“Did they arrest you?”
“Worse,” Aidan sighed. “They called my mother.”
Nadia in her “wild” days. It was the only thing she ever stole and she returned to pay back the store and confess on the behalf of both of them.
Aidan found himself following the curve of Patrick’s lips, the slight dimple that formed in one cheek, and then he was looking at the freckles across his nose, following them up to his eyes and the fiery red of his hair like a blazing sunset. Watching Patrick smile was truly an experience.
He should have taken the moment, while they were at ease, to confess his crimes about the tickets, too. It worked well with the Nadia story… Oh, hey, I wanted to be your friend so much that I broke into Jill’s lockbox and traded out Jay Joseph, third row center, for a couple of free tickets to the Midland Players’ production of Annie. That’s cute, right?
But even if it hadn’t sounded ridiculous and desperate, what had happened next soured everything. So, instead Aidan just smiled and asked Patrick if singeing off his eyebrows was the worst thing he’d ever done.
<<< >>>
“I’ve got to tell you,” Patrick said later, while they waited in the endless, unmoving traffic of the parking garage. “I’d never actually heard of a friendship date before and didn’t know what to expect, but this was marvelous.”
“Yeah,” Aidan agreed. Jay Joseph had been spot-on that night, telling a few of Aidan’s favorite jokes and a whole slew of new ones that almost had him falling out of his chair. It was comedy at its finest. And if watching Patrick smile had been a treat, hearing Patrick belly-laugh was amazing. He’d thrown back his head in delight and held his stomach, not even trying to contain his laughter.
The car inched forward.
“Think we’re going to be here for all eternity,” Patrick said.
“Hope we don’t run out of things to say.” It was meant as a joke, but there was that fear, deep down inside of Aidan that he was boring Patrick. That even with dinner and the comedian and his best conversation, he was boring. He leaned his head against the window, trying not to sigh.
“I doubt seriously, we’ll…” Patrick trailed off. “What’s this then?”
Suddenly Patrick’s fingers were at the collar of Aidan’s shirt—the shirt he’d expressly worn and buttoned so high, the shirt with the collar that was now exposing the ugly mark. Aidan felt his face growing hot, especially because the fingers trailing across his skin had sparked a rather unexpected fire inside him.
“From a non-friendship date?” Patrick asked. His voice was level, but as Aidan looked over at him, the corners of his mouth had turned down a fraction.
Aidan kept his eyes on Patrick’s lips, oblivious to how that might come across. He just couldn’t meet the other’s eyes as he spoke. “It’s…nothing.”
“Right.”
“Just some of the tenants are—I don’t even know how to describe it.” Mrs. Wright caught me stealing the tickets and cornered me in Jill’s office and started sucking on my neck? Yeah, right. It sounded stupid, ridiculous. Wasn’t that the stuff of fantasies? Something to write to Penthouse about? The gorgeous Asian housewife, more tiger than kitten, shoved me against the wall and began to nip and suck at my neck. I about came in my pants. Except he hadn’t about come in his pants. In fact, his balls had shrunk up so fast it was almost painful. There was nothing sexy about the encounter and nothing sexy about the hickey. “There’s a couple of the female tenants who—”
“A couple? You’re seeing more than one?”
Patrick’s fingers fell away and Aidan was both grateful and sad at the loss of his touch.
“I’m not seeing either. I don’t like it at all. I’m just supposed to be the handyman. The lady who did this?” He gestured helplessly at his neck. “She’s married. I’m not like that, Patrick. I don’t fool around with married folks. Hell, I don’t fool around at all. I mean…I have. The once. With one of the women. But it wasn’t… I didn’t… I didn’t want to, I just…” He rubbed his face harshly with both hands. “If I could go back to that night I would take it all back, you know?”
The car inched forward again and in the momentary silence, he tried to get himself under control.
“Not really, but I’m trying my best to follow,” Patrick said kindly. “Go on.”
“It was almost four months ago now. I’d gotten off shift and I was about to go to my room when Ms. Ashmore—she’s one of our tenants—she asked if I would sit and talk with her. So I did. And she was already a little tipsy, probably from the rooftop bar—”
“You work in a place with a rooftop bar?”
“Yep,” Aidan said. “But in case you think I’m livin’ it up, my apartment is under the stairs and it’s about as big as two of this car.”
“So what happened?”
“I helped her to her room. She invited me inside. I don’t know, Patrick. I guess I felt…sad. For her. For myself. And then she was pouring me wine and—it’s all sort of a blur. I don’t remember much. She got my virginity, I got fifty dollars.”
“She— What?”
Aidan bit down hard on his lip. He should have just told Patrick it was a wild date. Did he really have to get into the whole virginity thing? And the money? At least he’d kept the doubt he’d been feeling lately to himself. Had he tried to stop it? It danced just out of his memory. And Ms. Ashmore wasn’t even the on
e who had given him the hickey.
“It doesn’t matter, I—”
“She tipped you for the sex?”
“Maybe.” Aidan’s cheeks really were burning now. “I figured she thought I was a prostitute or something and—”
“And you gave the money back immediately and told the woman where to stuff it?”
“That’s the problem,” Aidan sighed miserably. “I didn’t. I haven’t. Then rumors spread, and now Mrs. Wright also thinks I’m available for the right price and, y’know.” Again, he gestured helplessly at the hickey. “I didn’t ask for this, though, Patrick. I didn’t want it and when she started, I got away from her. But I’m in a tight spot and I don’t really know what to do. I could lose my job over all of this.”
“Quit, then. It sounds a horrible place.”
“I can’t quit.” Aidan closed his eyes and left them closed, letting out a long, low breath. “The Grand Heights is all I have.”
He felt Patrick move, felt as he shifted across the center console, close into Aidan’s space, but he did not open his eyes. He was expecting the hug—longed for it even—and as Patrick’s arms wrapped around him, Aidan melted into the feel and warmth and smell of Patrick. Then he felt Patrick’s lips on his neck, so gentle he almost wasn’t certain he felt it at all. He was tenderly kissing the spot where Mrs. Wright had left such an ugly mark.
“I wish I could make it disappear.” Patrick’s voice was hypnotizing, the sound of rain on a tin roof. Aidan turned his face, just a little, so that Patrick’s lips caressed his cheek.
“The hickey?”
“All of it.”
Their lips met and Aidan died a little, right there, in the parking garage. It was nothing at all like when he’d awkwardly kissed his prom date goodnight, his teeth knocking against hers. Nor was it like Ms. Ashmore and her almost suffocating kisses. And it sure as hell wasn’t Mrs. Wright clawing into him, sucking on his neck like a vampire.
“I’m sorry,” Patrick murmured against his lips. “I don’t know what I’m thinkin’, kissing you like this. I just can’t stand to see you sufferin’, Aidan Degas.”
“Oh.” Idiot, Aidan berated himself as he pulled back. He inhaled deeply and let it out on a chuckle he hoped sounded natural and not hurt. He’s feeling sorry for you. God, you always read so much into everything. “Well, I am feeling much better now.”
Patrick didn’t look convinced.
“I promise,” Aidan said, way too brightly, and turned back to the window. “I wonder if we’re ever getting out of this garage.”
Chapter Ten:
Wait of the World
“What the hell have I done, Max?” Patrick pedaled harder, the sweat flying off his face as his head jerked from side to side with the exertion of his punishing workout.
Maxine didn’t reply, and even in his current state he could understand why. It wasn’t like him to get angry; when they were at college, Maxine was like a whirling ball of fury, while Patrick was the peace-maker, stepping in before arguments turned nasty. However, right at that moment, making peace was the farthest thing from his mind.
“I really wanted to go round there and… Jeez, Max. What the feck is wrong with those people? He’s just a kid.”
“Didn’t you tell me he’s a couple years older than you are?”
“Yeah, but he’s so innocent. And losing his sister? I think it just made him stop still. His mam died young too.”
“So, what—he’s looking for someone to replace his mom?”
“I doubt that very much. He’s not so good with the women at all. Like Lily, his sister-in-law. I told you I met her in Babyland?”
“Yep.”
“And she was lovely, but as I say, she thinks Aidan resents her. ’Course, I didn’t mention I’d seen her. There was no point, and I thought…ah, I’m wafflin’. I’m sure you’ve plenty to do.” Patrick dipped his head and increased the resistance level on the bike.
Maxine stayed where she was, her head tilted to the side as if she was waiting for him to say more. He was usually a man of few words, although when he got a bee in his bonnet he could go on for hours, days, or even years. Like the first time Seamus got him drunk on Guinness, which he now despised. Patrick was only thirteen at the time, and Seamus said it was his “rite of passage.” A whole day spent with his head in the toilet while his brother chortled; he still hadn’t forgiven Seamus for that.
“I mean, sure,” Patrick continued, ignoring Maxine’s knowing grin, “I like the guy a lot, but he needs a friend, not someone making a move on him. He just wanted a friend, Max, that’s all. An ordinary, someone you can go for a beer with kind of mate, not a stupid eejit who gets all worked up over a couple of randy grannies taking advantage of him.”
Maxine burst into loud laughter.
Patrick went on undaunted: “I’m not joking. He’s in no fit state to take them on.”
“Aaaannnd the reigning middleweight champ Patrick Williams comes in with a flying left hook, taking out Granny Number One with one devastating blow…”
Patrick stopped pedaling and glared. Maxine was shadow-boxing an invisible opponent and grunting. The Sunday morning regulars at the gym gave her a smile but otherwise paid her no attention whatsoever, because that was just the kind of crazy thing Maxine did. She kept going, dancing her way all around the exercise bikes, jabbing and ducking and diving ridiculously, until eventually even Patrick cracked a smile.
Maxine stopped at his side and counted, “One, two, three…and Patrick Williams retains the championship,” breaking off to make the noise of the crowd in her throat and grabbing Patrick’s arm, waving it in the air.
“All right, already,” he said with faked annoyance, because her antics had successfully pulled him out of his doldrums. Maxine released him and gave his arm a squeeze.
“You followed him in, didn’t you?” she guessed. He nodded. “And?”
“Nothing. I waited in the car, then went in and had a look around, but I was getting the evil eye off the snotty woman at the desk, so I asked her to pass on my address and left again. What else could I do? The poor guy thinks I only agreed to the friendship date because I feel sorry for him.”
“So you’re just gonna wait for him to make the next move?”
Patrick shrugged self-consciously. He wasn’t the pushy sort, but after he’d kissed Aidan he could tell he’d totally ruined any chance of them being friends.
“Well?” Maxine prompted.
“Maybe.”
“Or you could tell him how you really feel.” Maxine walked away.
Patrick closed his eyes, imagining how that would play out. What if he did tell Aidan the truth? At least he’d know for sure, but…no. Friendship date. He opened his eyes again and resumed pedaling at a less frantic rate than before. He was still raging, but talking it through with Maxine had taken the edge off his anger.
Patrick stayed on the bike a few minutes longer, all set to move on for a quick round on the weights. He looked around, trying to locate Maxine so he could say thank you before she got stuck in with her Sunday morning aerobics class. He was swigging from his water bottle at the same time and nearly choked when he saw her. She was standing by the entrance door and pointing his way. Aidan looked over, his gaze working its way up Patrick’s body until they locked eyes. Aidan smiled.
“Oh, great,” Patrick muttered. “I throw him straight back into the wolves’ den and now he gets to see me dripping with sweat and stinking to high heaven. Could it get any worse?”
“Paddy? Can you spot for me?”
With much effort, Patrick tore his eyes away from Aidan and nodded at José—one of the gym’s regulars. They had an informal arrangement in place. “Sure, José. Can you give me five minutes?”
“No problem.” José wandered off to the weights room.
Patrick turned back to find Aidan standing right in front of him. “Hello there.”
“Hi.” Aidan averted his gaze.
“I, er…” Patrick grabbed hi
s towel. “I’m…”
“Surprised?” Aidan suggested.
“Ha, yeah. A little bit.” Patrick rubbed his head with the towel, leaving his hair standing on end. He draped the towel around his neck, hoping it would hide some of his blush.
“You really do have a lot of freckles, don’t you?” Aidan observed, staring at Patrick’s bare arms.
“Every last inch of me is covered in ’em,” Patrick said, internally wincing at what sounded like a really bad come-on, but he really, truly hadn’t meant it to be. Aidan giggled. Patrick smiled bashfully. “Sorry.”
“No need to apologize. I mean, there is, but…” Aidan stopped and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for ruining our date last night.”
“Oh. No, Aidan. You didn’t ruin anything.”
“I shouldn’t have told you about the…” He rubbed at his neck and shrugged. “It just came out, and it was wrong of me to lay that on you.” He offered Patrick a watery smile, his eyes beseeching forgiveness, and once again Patrick was filled with the urge to scoop Aidan up into his arms and carry him away from the hellish nightmare of an existence he had made for himself.
“I’m glad you told me,” Patrick said, impressed that he’d been able to say that much. He was shaking and his heart was racing, from the exercise, from the rage that had returned in full force the second the word “sorry” passed Aidan’s lips, and from containing his intense physical attraction to the beautiful man standing before him. Someone cleared their throat none too subtly over the other side of the gym. “Ah, shit. José.”
“Your boyfriend?” Aidan asked innocently. Patrick smiled.
“No. We just work out together sometimes. I said I’d spot for him.”
“I’ll go and come back another time.”
“No!” Patrick realized how desperate it sounded after the fact, but it was said now. “Please don’t go.”
Aidan smiled—properly smiled. Patrick’s heart seemed to stop and kick-start itself.
“Okay. What shall I do? Wait here?”
Seeds of Tyrone Box Set Page 6