UNLIKELY IN LOVE
Three delightful short stories about how love begins in the most unexpected ways.
UNLIKELY IN LOVE
Three Short Stories
Susan Mac Nicol
www.BOROUGHSPUBLISHINGGROUP.com
PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, business establishments or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Boroughs Publishing Group does not have any control over and does not assume responsibility for author or third-party websites, blogs or critiques or their content.
UNLIKELY IN LOVE
Copyright © 2017 Susan Elaine Mac Nicol
Smashwords Edition
All rights reserved. Unless specifically noted, no part of this publication may be reproduced, scanned, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Boroughs Publishing Group. The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or by any other means without the permission of Boroughs Publishing Group is illegal and punishable by law. Participation in the piracy of copyrighted materials violates the author’s rights.
ISBN 978-1-944262-80-8
E-book formatting by Maureen Cutajar
www.gopublished.com
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This little anthology came about because I had a short story that was originally included in the Over the Rainbow Anthology for the victims of the Pulse shooting in Orlando, Florida, and I didn’t know what to do with it. I mentioned it to my publisher, who in true publisher fashion said, “Just write another couple of stories to go with this one, and we’ll pop it out as a new short story trilogy release.”
Ermm, okay. I’ll get to it then? No problem at all to produce another few thousand words on top of finishing a screenplay and trying to write the next Men of London book. She cracks the whip; I listen.
Her confidence and faith in me were sustained, and I managed to tap these out in a couple of days. Go me. Who needs food, sleep and family time?
One of the stories, Dear Davey, is a little tongue-in-cheek look at two coworkers of mine at Eunisure Limited, where I have my day job. (See, boss, free advertising! Do I get a raise now?) Davey actually exists, although he’s not gay. He’s as cute as a button though, and is the office comedian. Becca is my bestie at work. We sit opposite each other and trade weird news, fantasies and fan-girl crushes. Hers is Jake Gyllenhaal. You’re no stranger to mine :) For whatever reason, these two people leapt into my creative world and I made them mine. So, thanks to Davey for letting me make him a gay diva, and thanks to Becca for the way I describe her in the book. She had quite a chuckle.
The other stories are simply whimsical little tales I felt like writing. Benchpressed sprung to mind because haven’t we all ogled that gorgeous someone at the gym? (Well, not me; I doubt I’ve ever set foot in a gym, but you get my meaning.) And Banana Appeal was created to make people smile after a tragic event.
Hope you enjoy reading these stories.
CONTENTS
Benchpressed
Dear Davey
Banana Appeal
About the Author
Connect with Susan
Also by Susan Mac Nicol
UNLIKELY IN LOVE
Benchpressed
Huff. One. Huff. Two. Huff. Three.
I raised the dumbbells over my head as I did another round of lifts. Lying flat on my back on the bench, I looked around the workout area. People of varying shapes and sizes did the same, looking far more impressive than me with the load of weights that they were lifting. Christ, that tiny blonde woman on the opposite side of the workout area put me to shame. I should probably have my gym card revoked right now.
I wouldn’t call myself a gym bunny per se. I enjoyed my gym time, don’t get me wrong, and I’d been going just over a month now, twice a week. I needed some exercise time as my job was pretty hectic and it was good to let my mind focus on something else.
I’m an urban planner with the local council in Bristol, having studied my life away to get my master’s degree.
My best friend, Raddy, says I’m one of those nerdy, bookish types at heart, at odds with my appearance. He says I should have chosen a profession a little more physical or sporty given I’m five-foot-seven, hairy, and well-toned in most places. People refer me to as an otter, but I wasn’t keen on labels. I was just an athletic guy with an active brain who liked using it on topographic maps and urban layouts.
Said best friend was currently perving over some huge bodybuilder type with gleaming, sweaty muscles and no neck to speak of. I wasn’t a fan. Raddy, however, got a boner for them. Every time.
Raddy—his real name was Radcliffe but he hated it—drooled as he did a few half-hearted sit-ups on the mat next to me.
“Christ, look at him,” he stage-whispered. I winced. Raddy’s idea of sotto voce was someone else’s equivalent of normal-pitched conversation. I’d told him countless times, and still he acted shocked when something he hadn’t wanted someone to hear ended up being challenged. There were a few times in our long and eventful friendship when we’d had to run like hell for leather away from someone taking exception to Raddy’s remarks.
“That guy is built to ride,” he muttered. “I am so a dick jockey for that horse.”
I finished my regimen of lifts and sat up, pulling at my t-shirt to wipe the sweat out of my eyes. I kept a wary eye on the big guy who seemed oblivious to Raddy’s comments, but you never knew.
“Keep it down, you dork,” I murmured. “If he hears you, and comes over to beat you to a pulp, don’t expect me to defend your honour. I’ll run, I promise.”
Raddy laughed as he sat up, finally giving up the pretence of working out. He was not what I’d call a dedicated gym partner although he was my loyal spotter. He was there more to ogle the talent and enjoy the fruit smoothies in the trendy canteen. He also flirted like crazy with the pretty receptionist so she’d let him use the steam room for free. Raddy was a mover and a shaker, and he didn’t care what gender he messed with.
“My hero.” He winked at me. “I bet if it were Dan getting trounced, you’d defend his honour.”
My face flamed at the mention of that name.
“Quiet, you idiot,” I hissed. “Dan might hear you. Besides, no one could trounce him.” I stole a quick glance over to where Dan Perriman, the man I had filthy dreams about, stood chatting with another gym patron.
He looked as if he was trying to be interested in what she was saying. He was a vision of god-like bear sexiness in his gym shorts and cut-off vest. Black hair framed a square-cut face covered with black stubble. I knew his eyes were a deep blue because I’d studied the man every minute I got. The curls of black hair on his chest were visible. I wanted to lick him from head to toe.
I sighed dreamily then gave an irritated sniff as the woman’s shrill laughter at something Dan said echoed in my ears. Dressed in a low-cut black and white leotard, the woman stared up at him with stars in her eyes and lust on her face.
My inner bitch had to say something. “Her tits look like two pandas fighting to get out. How the hell does anyone walk with that weight attached to their chest?”
Raddy cackled loudly, causing everyone in the gym to look over at us, some startled, some disapproving. “You are such a bitch, Elliot. You know Dan is gay, so why are you worried about her? I’ve told you to make a move on him. He’s single, you know.”
I sighed heavily. “I know. And hot. And über sexy. But I wouldn’t stand a chance with him. Have you s
een the guys he leaves here with? All toned, and tanned, no doubt with six-packs under their shirts.”
I looked down at my slightly paunchy stomach dolefully. I might have had a two-pack hiding there somewhere, screaming to get out, but I wasn’t convinced. “No matter how much I do stomach crunches and sit-ups, this damn bit of fat refuses to shift.” I pinched the loose skin on my tummy and gave a yowl when it hurt. “No, Dan isn’t meant for me.”
Raddy hooted and stood up, holding out a hand to me. “Oh, fuck off, you dozy sod. I think you’re pretty fit, for a friend. You’ve got big brown eyes, curly blond hair, not to mention that fuzzy chest and hairy legs.”
“I’m not a fucking otter,” I growled as I stood up. “Otters are cute woodland creatures who love mud. Benedict Cumberbatch is an otter. Didn’t you see those pictures of him?”
We walked together toward the changing room. It was time for a shower and then home. It was already quite late and I had an early meeting in the morning.
Raddy waited until we were both naked in the shower before he gave me his final words of wisdom.
“Life is like a cup of tea, mate. It depends on how you make it. Go out and make that cup of tea, son. And have a choccie biscuit on me.”
****
Three days later I was back at the gym sans my philosophical sidekick. Raddy had been sent away on business to Cambridge, and no doubt was causing havoc in the local pubs.
I decided to try a little extra weight on my barbell this time, so after warming up, I added two and a half pounds each side to my usual forty-five. I didn’t want to push it and get myself a hernia. Those were ouch.
I knew I should have had a spotter with me, but there didn’t appear to be anyone around that was free and I figured the weight difference wouldn’t be that bad. I mean, really, we’re talking five more pounds here.
As part-owner of the gym, Dan would give me hell for not having someone watching over me when I lifted, and as much as I wanted to get up-close and personal with the man, I didn’t fancy his anger being directed at me.
I glanced around guiltily and lifted the barbell.
I strained a bit but it wasn’t too bad. After my first five reps, I sat up, wiped the sweat off my face, and blinked it out of my stinging eyes.
Time for another five. I was on number eight when there was a loud bang and a yell from the other side of the room. Startled, I lost focus and instinctively turned my head to check out what was going on.
The sudden movement wrenched my shoulder and I let out a yelp of my own as pain radiated down my neck.
Fuck. That bloody hurt.
I refocused my energy and managed to get the barbell back on the rack. I lay there, gasping like a landed fish. I’d had visions of the bar coming down on my chest or throat and me slowly choking to death while everyone around me carried on working out.
At least whatever had happened on the other side of the gym—probably someone dropping a dumbbell or something—had fizzled out and things were back to business as usual.
I tried to sit up and groaned as my right shoulder and neck objected. Then I lost my breath. “Shit, fuck,” I swore as I clutched what I hoped was only a pulled muscle.
A warm, rough hand landed on my left shoulder.
My head whipped around to see who it was, and that hurt like shit too.
“Problem?” Dan’s warm, deep voice echoed in my ears. He smelt of sweat, wintergreen and some spicy men’s cologne. Under other circumstances, I’d have climbed him like a tree.
I couldn’t lie and say everything was fine. He’d probably seen the whole thing. Dan was nothing if not vigilant when it came to the patrons of his gym.
“Yeah.” I gritted my teeth and tried a smile. “Just pulled a muscle, I think. It’ll pass.”
Dan stared at me. “You’re normally sensible when it comes to your lifting,” he said quietly. “I saw something distracted you.” He frowned. “You struggled a bit to get the bar back. That’s why I was coming over. How come this time you have no spotter?”
I shrugged and nearly hit the roof as my muscles reminded me just how hard done they were by now. “He had to go away on business,” I gasped. “I thought I could do this on my own. No biggie.”
Dan harrumphed. “Spotters are there for a reason, Elliot. We’ve got a great safety record here at the gym. I don’t want you to be the first to break it.” He huffed. “Come with me,” he said, turning and walking toward his office. “I’ll take a look at that shoulder for you.”
My throat went dry. Having Dan’s hands on me was more than I could cope with right now. A bath and some Deep Heat would work better for my nerves, if not my libido.
“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll take care of it at home.”
Dan turned and glared at me. “Elliot, can it. I’m not letting you go home without fixing you up first.”
I swallowed and followed his amazing arse into his office.
He motioned to the side door. “That’s my treatment room. Get yourself in there. I’ll be in soon to help you get your shirt off if you need it. I need to call Reception about something.”
I gulped and nodded as he picked up his phone. The treatment room was cool, clinical and yet inviting. It smelt of medicines, muscle rubs and Dan’s own scent. I tried to get my shirt off but I couldn’t quite manage it.
Dan came in and grinned when he saw me tangled up. He helped me lift my shirt over my head then brushed my back with his fingers. I wasn’t sure if it was deliberate or he was just checking me over.
“Come on, let’s get you settled. By the way, in case you’re wondering, I am a qualified physiotherapist. This isn’t just an excuse to get you half naked.”
I laughed slightly hysterically. “I didn’t think that, honest.”
He didn’t need an excuse.
God help me. This man is going to touch my body and I am going to explode.
“Sit up here,” Dan patted the bed. “Let me see what damage you’ve done.”
I complied and waited, hardly breathing. Dan’s warm, strong hands poked, prodded, rotated and stretched my muscles. I was in a little pain but the feeling of having him touch me kind of made it better. I obeyed his soft instructions to mobilise my joints, squeezed his hand and the whole time, my dick got firmer and firmer. I hoped it would be over soon before I made a fool of myself. My gym shorts might have been loose but they wouldn’t hide the boner in my pants for long.
“Right, now lie facedown, let me do a couple more mobility tests,” Dan announced. “I’m pretty sure this is a simple muscle pull, nothing too serious. You were lucky. Just a couple of last-minute checks then we can get some ice on it.”
Thank god. At least my front wouldn’t be in full view.
I lay down, arms by my sides, as Dan did his thing. Shit, this was even worse. His soft touches on my skin, his firm strokes on my muscles and the warmth and nearness of him was driving me crazy. I closed my eyes, willing my unfortunate groin swelling to subside before I had to turn back over. I might have to grab a towel to mask my attraction to him.
“You have nice muscle structure,” he said, his voice rough. I thought it might be the incense he’d lit and was now flooding the room that was making him congested. “The gym looks as if it’s been working for you.”
I nodded groggily. His ministrations were relaxing me in a way I hadn’t anticipated. So I lay there with a world-class hard-on, drifting off to sleep. “Uh-huh, glad you think so. Pity about my belly. I can’t seem to shift it.”
“I happen to think you have a very nice belly,” Dan murmured. “It makes a change from the usual devotion to keeping a six-pack.” His tone went dreamy. “I like a man with a bit of meat on him.”
Oh, fuck me. That sounded a bit awkward, even to me. My body flushed with heat and I cleared my throat.
He stepped away from me hastily. “Sit up, would you? I need to put a cold compress on your shoulder for a while. I don’t think you need a sling. Just some rest before you do any more gym work.”
I sat up carefully, trying not to draw attention to the tent in my silky pants. Unfortunately, it didn’t work. Dan took one look and his Adam’s apple galvanised into action. He looked as if he was trying to swallow a fully feathered chicken.
He turned away, his face reddening. “Er, don’t worry, honestly. That’s normal. It’s a usual male reaction to something like this. Let me get that compress.” He bent down to open the under-counter fridge door and my pulse raced as his backside tautened against his shorts, revealing a crease I wanted to stick my tongue in.
He stood up and turned, noticing my eyes ogling his arse. Our eyes met. Something flamed in his. Heat and desire? He licked his lips.
Oh my god—he wants me.
The power I felt at seeing that look of lust on his face made me throw caution to the wind.
I found my voice and murmured, “This isn’t just about reacting to being touched. This is more about the man doing the touching.”
His eyes darkened. “Is that so? I wasn’t sure. You’re a hard man to fathom out.”
I sniggered. “I’m hard all right.”
We looked at each other, wide-eyed, then burst out laughing.
“That was bad,” Dan said, a wide grin on his face. “I hope your jokes get better or this relationship is going nowhere.”
I stood up, ignoring the pain in my shoulder, and drew him to me. His breath hitched and his lips parted.
“Relationship? Maybe we should try a date first,” I whispered as I took his mouth in a kiss that made me forget my pain—for a little while. As his tongue stroked mine and our breathing grew heavier, the sudden squeeze of his fingers against my injured limb made me hiss and draw away.
“Oh god, sorry,” he stammered, bringing up the compress in his hand. “Maybe we should put this kissing thing on ice for a minute while we get this sorted.”
We chuckled again at his inadvertent humour and then I sat while Dan tenderly applied a freezing cold pack to my aching shoulder. I wondered idly if there’d come a time when perhaps we’d be using the idea of something icy against other parts of my body. I’d always had a bit of a kink for ice cubes. Inside my body, on the outside—the mere thought gave me chills.
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