1001 Dark Nights Short Story Anthology 2020

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1001 Dark Nights Short Story Anthology 2020 Page 11

by Fiona Archer


  Determination and love filled Callista. She and Owen could do anything they set their minds to. She rested her head against him and listened as he fell asleep. Nothing worth having was easy. They’d make their new life work.

  Copyright Cara Carnes

  About Cara Carnes

  Born in small-town Texas, Cara Carnes was a princess, a pirate, fashion model, actress, rock star and Jon Bon Jovi’s wife all before the age of 13.

  In reality, her fascination for enthralling worlds took seed somewhere amidst a somewhat dull day job and a wonderful life filled with family and friends. When she’s not cemented to her chair, Cara loves travelling, photography and reading.

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  THE ARSENAL SERIES

  Jagged Edge

  Sight Lines

  Blood Vows

  Zero Trace

  Battle Scars

  Impact Zone

  Hostile Ground

  THE COUNTERSTRIKE SERIES

  Protecting Mari

  Justice For Angie

  Avenging Victoria

  Want more of The Arsenal Series? Did you know there are free reads between all the Arsenal releases? Subscribe to my newsletter or join my Facebook group for the first peek at exclusive bonus content. Links to free short stories in the series can be found on my website at www.caracarnes.com

  Prince of Hearts

  by

  Caraway Carter

  Chapter One

  Grady

  Grady stood in front of his free little library, that was an exact replica of his own house. He opened the door and piled three books on top of the ones already there. He lifted the box to his hip and added the six paperbacks he’d brought with him from the garage: two trade paperbacks that almost didn’t fit, and four mass-market books—one romance, one sci-fi, and four mysteries. He slid the one on collecting books between the pile and the wood wall. That left enough room for the one he’d written: a slim volume of photographs and words.

  No one had grabbed it the past three times he’d been out here. Probably because it’s paper stapled together. Most people want an actual book. Still, the little library was one way to get rid of the books his mother had saved when her bookstore caught on fire. She’d nearly died, but Grady had come back from lunch in time to pull her out of the blaze. He’d also pulled out sixteen boxes of books she’d been packing up.

  They’d stood on the sidewalk and watched their only source of income burn away.

  The inspector said it was uninsulated wiring. They didn’t consider it arson, though the insurance company fought hard. The shop wasn’t built to code, so the original owner was to blame. The original owner had been married to his mom years ago. They’d separated, and she’d gotten the bookstore in the settlement.

  And it’s mine now, since I was the reason for the divorce, because he couldn’t handle having a gay son. I couldn’t care less they found him responsible for the fire.

  Grady caught himself looking into the past and smiled wryly. He closed the glass door, sighed, and headed back up the driveway.

  Then, with no warning, a dog was barking, and he was on the ground. He heard the barking before the box broke his fall, but his knees had nothing to protect them.

  He lay flat on his stomach with the box and books beneath him as a warm tongue licked his face. Images flashed by—a lolling canine tongue, nose and teeth, then the face of the most gorgeous man he’d ever seen: a pair of dark brown, concerned eyes, with hair to match. Who’s licking me?

  Then he sensed the man’s hand on his back.

  “Are you all right?”

  Grady lifted his head and looked at the remarkably fine basket of the man who’d knelt beside him. No, a cornucopia—a basket for days! He realized how he must look, snorted, and sighed, “I think I mostly am.”

  “Grady, heel,” the man said toward his left. The tongue stopped licking him.

  Confusion came back like an old friend. “What?” Grady said. “You want me to heel?”

  “No—” the man looked to his left again. “No, I was talking to my dog, Grady.”

  Grady snorted a laugh. “Funny, it’s my name too.” He sat up slowly, using the firm knee of the dark-eyed stranger beside him to brace.

  The stranger extended his hand. “Sorry about your stuff. I’m still training him. I’m Matthew.”

  “I’m Grady. But you knew that already.” Grady took Matthew’s hand and scrambled to a sitting position.

  Dog-Grady tilted his head, barked twice, and ran into Man-Grady head first, paws on his shoulders, licking his face again. Grady landed on his back with the dog in his lap.

  “Whoa there, Grady!” Matthew slid his hands under his dog’s belly, pressing them into Grady’s chest. “I’m really sorry about this.”

  “Me too,” Grady said, surveying the box and the books ruefully.

  “He’s not usually this, um, demonstrative with new people.” Matthew lifted the dog off Grady’s chest and pushed him into a sitting position with one hand, reaching out with the other to brush dirt and leaves from Grady’s white T-shirt. “What’s your last name?”

  “You’ll probably call half the other dogs in the neighborhood if you call me by my last name,” Grady said.

  Matthew pulled his dog to the side and leaned down. “Whisper it in my ear, and we’ll see.” He leaned close and turned his ear to Grady’s lips.

  Grady chuckled and leaned in. “It’s Prince. I’m screwed.”

  He expected Matthew to rise from the spot as he lifted his face to meet the ear hovering. But Matthew turned to look at him, and their lips were suddenly pressed together.

  It was a soft kiss and simple. Both men closed their eyes and then opened them, surprised, when neither resisted the pressing. The kiss went on—a solid minute of connection, eyes wide open, before Grady pulled back and lowered his.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. He glanced up and then down again.

  “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one who turned my head.” Matthew took a sobering breath. “And that kiss was nothing to be sorry for, either. That was—wow.” Matthew stood and backed up a step.

  Grady reached out to stop him. “Uh. The kiss didn’t offend you? Kissing an old guy like me?” He searched the man’s face, glanced behind him to look for offended people, cameras taking pictures to hound him. And he noticed a stirring he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

  “No, it surprised me.” Matthew smiled. “Nice surprise.”

  “You wouldn’t…mind a kiss again sometime?” Heat rushed up his neck with one direction in mind—his cheeks. I can’t believe you just came out and asked him.

  “Frankly, if that’s how you always kiss, I wouldn’t mind at all. Do you need help up?” Matthew pulled a leash from his pocket, clipped it to the dog’s collar, and bent downward. “Here, take my arm.”

  Grady wrapped his hand around the arm to pull himself to a kneeling position. “Thank you.”

  “No problem,” Matthew said.

  Hell, I should call you the Prince.

  Matthew reached up, the leather leash scraping against Grady’s cheek as he brushed a dead leaf from his hair. “There. Maybe we could meet without my dog, later on.”

  Grady grinned. “Maybe we could. Would it be bad if I asked for another kiss now—you know, to compare with the first accidental one?”

  What am I doing?

  The younger man grinned back. “Sure.” He dropped to one knee and leaned forward, his hands pressed on Grady’s thighs. Grady leaned forward too, but Matthew closed his eyes, missed Grady’s lips, and landed on his neck. He pressed his lips and licked a tiny circle.

  Grady couldn’t help gasping at the touch. Was it a moan he’d let slip? Was something growing in his crotch? Did he want to look? How could a lingering kiss on his neck make his body attack him this way?

  Then Matthew pulled away. “I’m sorry, I’m overstepping.”

  “Well, you didn’t aim well, but you did
n’t overstep.” Grady opened his eyes. “Do you mind if I give it a shot?”

  Matthew grinned a goofy grin. “Honestly? This is the most fun I’ve had all year.”

  Grady knelt up and slipped a hand up each stubbled cheek. He leaned forward, his tongue out to lick Matthew’s bottom lip before pressing home to a satisfying space.

  Matthew slid his hands up to Grady’s waist and pulled him close. Their chests pressed together, and their breathing sped up. The kiss broke, both of them panting.

  Grady leaned back to connect with the door of his Mini Cooper parked on the driveway. His head was spinning.

  Matthew looked almost smug. “I liked it.”

  “Me too.”

  He was surprised, because this was so unlike him. Kissing a stranger in broad daylight? It wasn’t anything that would ever happen to Grady Prince, ever, in a million years. He’d just expected to be gay but never act on it, to protect his parents from embarrassment.

  But this was acting on it, wasn’t it? A slip of lips along other lips.

  Matthew’s hand slipped under Grady’s T-shirt, and Grady’s explored up Matthew’s face and into the curly hair.

  “I could take Grady home and be right back,” Matthew said as he pulled back. “I want to explore more.”

  “I’d like to as well.” Grady grinned.

  Matthew leaned back and rose to his feet in an instant. “Come on, Grady.” The dog wagged its tail and followed its master.

  Grady continued kneeling and leaning back against the car, watching the tail wag as the two turned around the corner and were out of sight.

  Matthew

  Matthew ran down the block to the little library. “Damn!” He looked up at the house, then at the dark sky, then at his watch, then back at the house. “Fuck!”

  He pulled a book from his pocket, a crushed, used paperback he’d read a million times, and opened the little library, intending to leave it there. He looked for the mystery he’d seen earlier. It was gone. He started to turn away, but then spied a slim booklet—paper and photos stapled together, “Grady Prince” handwritten on the front.

  He took it, feeling like he was stealing.

  The nearly worn-out paperback in his other hand fell open, enough to show his note still inside. He reached to place it on the shelf, then thought better of leaving it there, walked to the front door, and slipped it through the mail slot instead.

  Well, it was done now. The book and note were out of his hands.

  I hope Grady doesn’t have pets. They’d probably make short work of the book and the note.

  He couldn’t bear to leave. He was too late, of course, and the house was dark, but he needed to rest before heading back home. His leg ached where the break had been.

  Matthew sat on the porch stoop. He opened the booklet he’d taken from the little library and read page one.

  The words were poetic, though not poetry. They rolled off his tongue, and he found himself lost. He heard them issuing from his mouth. They left him shaken.

  He wrote this? I really blew it, didn’t I?

  He took a seat in the chair on the porch, and held the light from his phone up so he could read more. He tasted the words leaving his mouth as though they were rich, flavor-filled pastries.

  He turned more pages, forgetting what he had come there to do, finding himself wrapped in the warmth of the small, thin book written by Grady Prince.

  * * * *

  He woke suddenly, a bright light in his face. He rubbed it, groggy, wondering for a moment where he was. He could have sworn he’d gone to bed, but he’d fallen asleep in the chair in front of Grady’s house.

  The bright light was the porch light. Oh, shit.

  Grady was standing in the open doorway, arms crossed. “Interesting book?”

  His comment was perfectly neutral. Matthew strained to hear sarcasm or anger. It must be there. I’d be angry. “Uh, yes. Your writing is amazing.”

  “I wish publishers thought that,” Grady said, his tone still perfectly flat. “Sorry it put you to sleep.”

  Matthew looked sad. “It—it didn’t. Did—did you find my note?”

  “Both the note and the book. I tripped over it when I came into the kitchen. Nearly dropped my drink.”

  “I’m sorry,” Matthew said. He got up from the chair and walked toward the porch steps. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

  “Wait.”

  He stopped, one foot on the top step, and turned. Grady sighed, and Matthew heard the pain in his next words.

  “Why didn’t you come back today?”

  Matthew looked down again. “I had a study group tonight, and it totally slipped my mind. We meet most nights at the Brass Lamp, but they were closed tonight, so we were going to study at my house. They were there when I got home to drop off the dog. And we have a test tomorrow, so they wanted to go over every part of the book that would be on it.”

  “You’re in college?” Grady stepped out from behind the screen door. “You’re, what, in your forties?”

  “I’m thirty-nine, and yes, I’m going back to get a degree I never thought someone like me could get.”

  “What degree are you trying to get? Phys Ed teacher? Sports coach?” Grady said. Now the sarcasm was rising in his voice. Matthew winced.

  “I know you’re probably angry, but I’m more than just a jock.”

  Grady flinched, then retorted, “Reading sci-fi doesn’t make you an intellectual.”

  It was a punch to the gut. Matthew flared, “And so what? Even if that’s what I was going back to school for, why does it matter? Do you only kiss jocks so you can insult them later?” He stepped forward, dropped the booklet on the chair, and turned to leave. Grady took a step toward him.

  “Matthew, I—"

  “No, it’s late. I’m sorry I came over. I’m sorry I woke you up and almost made you fall.” I’m sorry I kissed you this afternoon.

  He sprinted to the sidewalk, aching leg be damned. Running might not help much, but at least it got him away from Grady.

  Grady

  Jesus Christ, Grady!

  He was kicking himself as Matthew - the man he’d daydreamed about all night, the man he couldn’t get out of his mind—ran off.

  He'd been listening to him earlier, reading the words he’d written years ago. Matthew had read with so much passion Grady sensed it thrumming through his body.

  He’d waited most of the evening before giving up and turning on the television. When he went to shut the front window, he’d heard words rolling off Matthew’s tongue, a tongue he’d imagined on his neck, his ear, and…other places. His initial plan had been to invite him in for a drink, and then he’d tripped over the book and kicked it across the floor.

  It was an old paperback, one he couldn’t give away to a used bookstore. Einstein Intersection, a science fiction novel he’d read in high school. He’d bent the cover behind the back page, folded the page corners, written his name on the front cover, and underlined words he’d wanted to understand. He’d even highlighted the sexy sections he didn’t expect to find in a sci-fi.

  When he picked it up from the floor, he saw the note sticking out. It was an apology letter inviting him to dinner in a couple days, apologizing about the study group showing up. He’d read the note and sat re-reading it before he’d walked out to the porch to invite Matthew in.

  And then everything had gone wrong, because he got angry.

  Why were you angry with him? He loved reading your words; he read your damn book, and you treated him like a dumb jock. But that dumb jock kissed you like you were the football he was carrying through the goal, or diamond, or whatever the metaphor is, you dumbass.

  Grady picked up his little book from the porch chair and went back inside.

  He picked up the note and the other book from the table, placed the note on the fridge under a rainbow book magnet, and took the sci-fi with him into the bedroom. He went to bed, holding the book in his arms, and dreamed of his words rolling off Matthew
's tongue, of sturdy arms engulfing him and tears streaming down his face.

  Matthew

  They were sitting in the Brass Lamp after study group. Most of the group had already left. Only Viri, Matthew, and Tyler were still at the table, and Tyler had headed toward an older guy at the wine bar.

  “So you met someone,” Viri said.

  Matthew looked at her. “How’d you know?”

  “You’ve been distracted all night,” she said. “What’s going on? Tell me about him. What’s he like?”

  Matthew slumped in his seat, a latté mostly untouched in front of him. “I can’t stop thinking about his book.”

  Viri sipped her Americano. “He’s an author?”

  “Not exactly,” Matthew admitted. “But Viri… Have you ever read a book and the words tasted delicious as they left your mouth?”

  “No,” Viri said. “That sounds kind of weird.”

  Matthew groaned again. “It sounds stupid, I know, but it satiated. Every word.”

  “What did?”

  “His…his passion. It formed like a meringue in my mouth, like a delicate bite of sugared air, a pleasant tingle as the words slipped past my teeth. I couldn’t stop reading the pages, and even now I couldn’t tell you exactly what they were leading toward. It wasn’t a book of fiction, or a book of essays. It was the words he thought of as he stared at the photo on the other page.”

  “On the other page?” Viri tilted her head. “Okay, I’ll humor you.”

  Matthew took a big gulp of coffee before continuing. “He had this book he wrote. Photos and writing. Words about the pier and the people playing around the boards. Words about the Promenade, the runners, the skaters, the homeless and the wealthy loft owners.” Matthew sighed. “I wish I’d kept it, but I left it on his porch.”

 

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