Chance to Bloom Page 13

  Hell, Jack could even smell him, floral and earthy, with a hint of sweetness. It was so perfectly Ethan, and it was intoxicating.

  But okay.

  O-kay.

  Okay.

  He really had to get it together.

  “So, do you know all the customers as well as you know Mrs…”

  “Linley?” Ethan laughed, then shrugged. “Sort of. I mean, obviously we get a few new faces in every week, but more often than not they come back again. After a while, you start to learn what they like, what they don’t like, and the occasions they’re buying for give you little windows into their lives. Maybe they’re graduating, or getting married, just had a baby, or just got out of the hospital—you know, stuff like that. In a town the size of Bridgewater, it doesn’t take long to figure people out.”

  Jack nodded, sort of amazed. Living in Bridgewater before had always felt like more of a curse than a blessing, and the thought of everyone knowing his business had been the exact reason he’d wanted to leave in the first place. But now—especially after seeing Brad with Jamie and how easily their circle of friends had accepted the two men as a couple—Jack’s horizons had broadened, at least a little.

  It was at least a little easier to start to wonder how things could be if he had wanted to settle down in Bridgewater again.

  “I’m sure it helps that you’re pretty easy to talk to,” Jack said, grinning a little when his statement was rewarded with a slight flush in Ethan’s cheeks. “I think you probably put people at ease pretty quickly.”

  “I hope so. I mean, it was really important to your—to Gary—that we make those kinds of personal connections with people, to make them feel like we know them and they know us. Sort of like family.”

  Jack turned his head to keep from wincing at the words. Why had it been so important for his dad to make those kinds of connections with strangers, when he’d never been able to do it at home? The only time Jack had felt like he’d been heard or understood or even listened to when he was growing up had been back when his mom had still been alive. After they’d lost her, though, everything had just… stopped.

  And while he’d eventually found a different kind of acceptance and understanding and connection in the Marines, it had still ended up a poor substitute to what he’d been missing.

  But whatever.

  Ethan didn’t know that. And he didn’t need to, either.

  “Okay, so,” Jack said, turning his attention back to the flowers. “If we’re going to do this, we should do it right. I need to learn, and I need you to teach me.”

  “I can do that,” Ethan said, resting his hand lightly on Jack’s arm for a moment as he spoke. “I’m actually really surprised—and really happy—that you’ve decided to do this.”

  Jack’s heart did a little somersault at the touch, but he made the mistake of looking down at Ethan’s hand, and Ethan pulled it away so quickly it was as if he’d been burned.

  “Sorry, I—”

  “No, it’s okay,” Jack said. He opened his mouth to say something else—anything else—to let Ethan know that he didn’t mind, that he actually liked it, but nothing came out.

  They simply looked into each other’s eyes for several long, silent, uncertain seconds.

  It had been a nice moment—another reminder that Ethan’s good attitude wasn’t just for show. He truly enjoyed every minute he spent at the shop, and his enthusiasm for the work had been slowly rubbing off on Jack.

  Well, that and the fact that no matter how hard he tried to think of other things when they were together, Jack couldn’t ever seem to focus on anything but Ethan. And even though it was a new feeling to feel so drawn to another man in every way—to his heart and his mind just as much as to his cute face and sexy body—Jack had to admit that he liked the feeling.

  He liked all the feelings that being around Ethan brought out in him.

  The phone next to them rang, causing them both to jump, and Ethan let out a little squeak as he hurried to answer it.

  And just like that, the moment passed. Jack was left standing there, flowers in one hand, the other one braced against the table, just the same as it had been when Ethan had touched him.

  It had been so simple and light and meaningless, but it had been enough to make Jack’s cock take notice, and enough to make every part of him want it to happen again.

  There was no point in pretending that he didn’t want more. That he didn’t want Ethan.

  Jack’s eyelids fluttered, but didn’t open. He turned over on the too-soft hotel mattress, and even through his half-asleep haze, he was painfully aware of his erection—currently pinned between the mattress and his stomach.

  Just ignore it. Just go back to sleep. Try to remember that dream…

  He kept his eyes shut tightly, willing himself to get back to the dream that had felt so real just a few moments before.

  It had been about Ethan, of course.

  Maybe because they’d worked the entire day practically side by side, or maybe because of the cute—almost secretive—looks Ethan had shot him throughout the day. Meaningless looks, really. Just little glances. But the connection had felt very real.

  Or maybe it had been that touch. That touch that had been so brief and innocent, but had immediately caught Jack’s attention—and the attention of his still-rock-hard cock.

  In his dream, there had been another touch, similar to the one before, but so much more. In his dream, Jack had known what to say to make it okay, to make Ethan want to go further, lower, touching and groping and stroking until his soft, cool hand had wrapped around the hard, hot length of Jack’s shaft.

  In his dream, it had felt like heaven.

  Jack groaned, rolling over onto his back again so his own hand could snake down, over his stomach, his fingers tracing the lines of his abs the same way dream-Ethan’s hand had just done. The lower it had gone, the bolder Ethan had become, making Jack moan when he had finally—finally—started those long, slow strokes that he had somehow known Jack loved.

  It had been perfect, the way dreams always were.

  Jack’s cock pulsed in his hand, and his hips thrust up to meet his strokes. He was fully awake now, fully aware that Ethan was nowhere near, but unwilling and unable to let go of the fantasy.

  Not yet, anyway. Not until he’d found his release.

  And that was the only thing left for him to do.

  “Ethan,” Jack moaned, the name coming to his lips just as easily as the man’s face had appeared in his dream.

  The urgency Jack felt building inside him was mirrored in Ethan’s look. That look that said Ethan wanted Jack to come, needed it as much as Jack did. It was more than Jack could handle.

  He pumped harder, faster against his fist as he kicked away the remaining covers. His hips bucked wildly and the bed springs groaned and creaked under his weight, but he barely noticed.

  All he could focus on was that image of Ethan, ready, waiting, wanting.

  “Oh, fuck,” Jack grunted, thrusting into the air and gasping for breath as the orgasm rushed through him and spilled out over his fist.

  For several long seconds, he lay perfectly still, shivering slightly as his body finally registered the cool air from the room on his glistening skin. For just a moment, he could still see Ethan perfectly in his mind’s eye, but as the rush of his climax faded, so did the image.

  Reluctantly, he opened his eyes with a sigh. The fantasy was over, and all that was left was the evidence of his arousal, still streaked across his hand and stomach.

  Jack swung his legs over the side of the bed and stumbled to the bathroom for a towel to clean the mess he’d made of himself.

  But no matter how hot it had been, it was only a fantasy, and that’s all it could ever be. No matter how much he actually enjoyed spending time at the shop with Ethan, the month would still pass and Jack would still sell Beverly’s Blooms. Ethan would be pissed and hurt all over again, and even though Jack would feel like an ass, he’d still move away to
the little cabin in the woods he’d imagined.

  That little, imaginary cabin suddenly seemed more remote and more lonely than it ever had before.

  Before he’d met Ethan.

  Still, it was the plan he’d committed to, and it still made the most sense financially, especially given the debt Jack’s father had saddled him with. And if there was one thing he’d learned in the Corps, you made a plan and stuck with it—at least until the situation on the ground changed. And right now—Jack’s own mixed feelings notwithstanding—the situation in Bridgewater was pretty much the same as it had been when he’d arrived.

  The little thoughts and dreams he’d been having about Ethan were just that—dreams. Fantasies.

  Not the kinds of things Jack could plan his life around, no matter how fun or real they might feel in the moment.

  Why, then, couldn’t he stand to look at himself in the bathroom mirror? Why did the thought of hurting a guy he’d known for just over two weeks make him want to throw up?

  How could it be that one person could make him question everything?

  Chapter 13

  Ethan

  Ethan sat on the stool behind the counter and did his best not to scowl at the burly men who walked past him to the back staircase. All morning long, they’d been going back and forth, hauling boxes and furniture from the small apartment upstairs out to the big moving truck in the parking lot.

  And even though he knew it wasn’t their decision to move Gary’s stuff, he couldn’t help but resent—just a little—that they were there.

  Jack was around somewhere, too, but Ethan had barely caught a glimpse of the man all day. He was no doubt busily taking the place apart, piece by piece.

  Ethan had to try really hard not to resent that, too.

  It was Jack’s apartment, after all, and the place had to be cleared out sometime. Ethan just hadn’t been prepared for how it would make him feel. And he hadn’t been prepared for it today. In fact, up until the moment he’d arrived at work and seen the moving truck, he’d actually been looking forward to spending another workday with Jack.

  It had felt like they’d sort of had a breakthrough over the previous few days; that they were starting to understand each other a little better. Jack’s style was night-and-day different from Gary’s, for sure—he was quiet and laid-back where Gary had been loud and opinionated—but it was at least nice that he didn’t really feel like a stranger anymore.

  And the way Jack had been looking at him lately? Like Ethan was made of candy and Jack was really hungry?

  Yeah, that had been pretty hot, and had made it even more difficult for Ethan to remind himself that Jack was straight. Well, probably straight.

  Mostly.

  But whatever.

  Straight or not, he was still Ethan’s boss.

  And even though fantasizing about Jack wasn’t necessarily the best use of Ethan’s time, either, it was a hell of a lot better than moping about what was going on upstairs.

  He glanced at the clock. It was close enough to lunchtime that he could probably go next door and whine to Luca without anyone caring.

  Just as he was standing up, though, Jack walked through the front door. And as if he’d been summoned by Ethan’s thoughts and had read Ethan’s mind, he was carrying two cups and a bag from next door.

  Ethan could immediately feel all of his crankiness from just a few minutes before start to fade away. Even if he’d wanted to hold onto some of that, to still be annoyed with Jack for… whatever reason… he just couldn’t. It was impossible, because he knew deep down that Jack wasn’t a bad guy. In fact, he was a much, much better guy than any Ethan had ever dated.

  “Oh hey,” Ethan said, trying to sound nonchalant as Jack approached with a grin. “I was just about to head over there. I didn’t even see you come down.”

  “I figured. I was starving, and I thought you might be hungry too. I grabbed us some sandwiches and some little pastry things that, um, your friend said you might like.”

  Ethan smiled. No matter how many times Ethan tried to turn down the sinfully delicious treats, Luca always managed to force at least one on him every couple of days.

  Not that it was that big of a sacrifice.

  “He knows me a little too well, I’m afraid. And maybe you do, too,” Ethan added.

  Was there a hint of embarrassment on Jack’s face? Ethan wanted to think so, but it was hard to be sure.

  “I thought maybe we could eat over at the work table? Or, um, that I’d join you there? If you don’t mind, I mean.”

  Ethan tried to suppress a laugh as Jack stumbled over his words. Yeah, there was definitely a little extra redness in his cheeks.

  Good thing he doesn’t realize how cute that is.

  There was something else Ethan had noticed in Jack’s expression, though. Something that had been temporarily hidden behind the smile and the flush of heat, but had become more clear as Jack let his guard down and started pulling food out of the bag.

  Watching him, it was easy to see that Jack was tired.

  Ethan had spent all morning thinking about how moving Gary’s stuff was making him feel, but he hadn’t really considered the impact it might have on Jack.

  “Has it been busy down here this morning?” Jack asked as he divided up the little sandwiches and pastries between them. “I’ve been so caught up in deciding what stays and what needs to get thrown out or put in storage that I haven’t even had time to check.”

  “It’s been pretty slow, actually. It’s felt busy, with those movers coming and going.” Ethan paused for a moment, wondering if he should ask the question that was on the tip of his tongue. It wasn’t too personal, and he was legitimately curious. “So, do you think you’ll be staying upstairs instead of at the hotel, now that things are… different?”

  Jack picked at the crust of his bread for a few moments before answering. “I’m not sure. I should. I can’t really justify spending more money on a hotel room—especially not for another month—when there’s a perfectly good apartment right here. That would just be dumb.” He shrugged. “But it still feels like his space, you know? Like no matter what I do, I’d still be spending the night in his apartment.”

  Ethan studied Jack’s face as he spoke. Spending time among Gary’s things—in Gary’s space—clearly wasn’t an idea that Jack was comfortable with. And that was… sort of understandable? But the place was Jack’s now, like he’d said. He’d have to come to terms with that at some point.

  “Yeah, I get that,” Ethan said, trying to decide whether or not to keep the rest of his opinions to himself. But he felt like he understood Jack a little better after working with him so closely for a few weeks, and the things that were on Ethan’s mind sort of needed to be said. “I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but I think it might actually help the way you feel about the place—the shop, the apartment, all of it—once you stay upstairs for a couple of nights. I mean…” he swallowed hard, second-guessing himself a little under Jack’s intense stare. “I obviously don’t know what the issues were between you and your dad, but maybe… I don’t know, maybe you can get some closure. Or maybe even start to—understand?—him a little better.” He couldn’t tell from Jack’s expression whether he should say more or not, so he decided it was probably best to wrap up his thoughts and keep the conversation moving. Ethan had said what he’d needed to say, after all. “I understand what you mean when you say it still feels like his space, though. There are a lot of times that I feel like he’s still here, too. Like he’s still watching over things.”

  “Is that why you love this place so much?”

  The question caught Ethan off guard, and he blinked for a moment as he considered what he should say. The easy answer was yes, of course. But under Jack’s intense gaze, he wasn’t sure if the easy answer was the best one. Still, no matter what Jack was looking for, the truth was really all Ethan could offer.

  “Yeah, if I’m being honest, I guess that’s a big part of it. I mean, I like th
e customers, and the work, and of course Frankie. But… yeah, at the end of the day, your dad was a big part of the reason for me staying here so long.” Then, before he could stop himself, he added, “Is that why you hate it so much?”

  As soon as the words left Ethan’s lips, he wished he could take them back. The expression on Jack’s face made it clear that Ethan had crossed a line, and even though that really hadn’t been his intention, the question still hung in the air between them.

  “I’m sorry,” Ethan said. “I didn’t mean to—”

  “No, that’s okay,” Jack said, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. “I’m pretty sure I know what you meant. And if you really wanna know? Okay, maybe that does have something to do with it.” Then, in a more subdued tone, “You should know, though, that I don’t hate it. My mom’s name is on the door, after all. I couldn’t ever hate it.”

  But you could still sell it.

  At least Ethan had the presence of mind to keep that thought to himself.

  They sat in silence for several long minutes, not making eye contact, not even looking in the other’s direction. Then, abruptly, Jack’s head snapped up, and when he spoke again, there was a pain in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

  “Did he ever talk about me?”

  Damn, Jack really wasn’t pulling punches with his questions. For a split-second, Ethan reconsidered his honesty-is-best policy. But no. It was a valid question, and Jack deserved an honest answer. If he was going to rely on Ethan to be some kind of bridge between him and Gary, Ethan had an obligation to be as truthful and accurate as possible.

  “Not very often,” Ethan said, finally. “But the thing is, when he did?” Ethan paused and snorted a little as he pictured his old friend. “He got the same sort of look on his face that you get when you talk about him. Like, a nearly identical expression.”

  Jack’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean? A pissed-off look?”

  “No, not that. Not pissed. It’s hard to describe, but no matter what he said—and it was always good things, by the way—the expression on his face made it seem like there was so much more to say. So much that he wanted to say but just… didn’t know how. I think he missed you.”