Authors: Cameron Dane
Zane’s chest banded with awful tightness. At the thought of denying himself a chance to learn more about himself with Noah, Zane wanted to cry. Then he reminded himself he had other priorities in his life anyway. He had his brother and sister to consider, and he would not do anything to put his custody of them on the line. If Zane so much as kissed Noah and Patty found out about it, she would say he wasn’t fit and would petition the court to take Duncan and Hailey away from him. Zane didn’t exactly live in a liberal state, and he could not predict what a judge would do if he or she were to find out Zane had an interest or was pursuing a relationship with another man.
At the thought of how Patty would eviscerate him until she got what she wanted, Zane shivered. Strange dreams and fantasies about Noah or not—shocking, newfound awareness of his ass because of those dreams or not—Zane had to put a damper on his confusing attraction to Noah before it got out of control.
Zane had to make every effort to avoid Noah whenever possible. A dull pain filled Zane’s gut, leaving him with a sick emptiness inside. It didn’t matter, though. Zane knew what he had to do.
Truth was, he didn’t have any choice.
Chapter 6
Noah glanced at his watch again, and cursed under his breath. Where in the hell was Rick? The guy should have been back from lunch fifteen minutes ago. Noah was on one hell of a tight schedule with this job. He had something to prove. This salon had its pipes explode on a level that had done so much damage they’d been forced to temporarily shut down the business. Significant water damage had ensued, and the result was a hellacious mess. Today was Tuesday, and the woman needed her business back open by Friday or she would have to cancel every appointment she had with
“pretty much every teenage girl in town”
—her panicked words—due to the end-of-year school dances at the junior high and high schools. If Noah could make this miracle happen the owner said she would contract him for all of the salon’s future plumbing, electrical, and labor needs.
As the owner of a small business specializing in plumbing but also offering all types of repair, Noah rarely got opportunities to contract long-term, steady work from a business owner such as this. Usually, two or three times a year, a homeowner would need a shower or toilet fixed, or need him to look at an air conditioner, or maybe install a sprinkler system or water feature outside. Noah maintained a successful business due to having cultivated a loyal clientele over almost twenty years of providing honest, affordable work. But since word had slowly gotten around that he was gay, he’d lost a few of those regulars. Not enough to keep him up at night with worry about how to pay the bills, but more than he liked to admit. Getting a contract in writing with this salon for future work would be great for Noah’s business. If Noah could prove he was a guy a business wanted on the other end of that phone in emergencies, it might even open the door for a few other small business owners to offer him the same.
But not if his employee took extralong lunches and threw off Noah’s schedule.
Goddamn fucker.
Noah hauled in piles of new piping from his truck on his own, breaking his back, when he should have an assistant to help distribute the weight. He laid down his third load of copper piping, turned to go back for the next, and stopped dead in his tracks.
Great.
The salon owner, Dana Culpeper, popped her sleekly-styled, dark-haired head in through the open front door.
Carefully stepping over the mess, Dana found Noah. “I just came to take a look at everything, and to grab a few things from my office.”
“Work is still in the early stages, Ms. Culpeper,” Noah shared, “but don’t let the mess make you nervous. It’ll get done on time.”
The more Dana looked around at her partially gutted salon, the wider her eyes became. “I’ll take you at your word.” With a tight smile, she gingerly moved to the back of her store. “Let me get what I need and get out of your hair.”
Cursing up a shitstorm’s worth of foul words under his breath, Noah strode back outside to finish unloading his truck. Just as he grabbed another three lines of piping, Rick stumbled against the side of the truck and then crashed into Noah. Reacting on instinct, Noah let the pipes fall and grabbed Rick around the waist before they both hit the sidewalk.
With a lumbering twist, Rick spit at Noah and shoved him away. “Get your hands off me, you fucking faggot.”
Noah crinkled his nose. “Are you shitting me right now?” Wiping spit off his shirt, Noah snarled, but forced himself to ignore the personal slights. Grabbing Rick’s hair, Noah yanked the man’s head back and sniffed his skin, getting a strong whiff of piss and beer. “You’re drunk.” Disgust rippled through Noah, and he pushed Rick away. “You spent your lunch hour drinking.”
“I don’t need to tell you anything about what I did.” After wiping sweat from his face, Rick lifted his arms out to his sides, as if to strengthen his physical presence. “That’s my time, not yours.”
“Considering the fact your lunch ended twenty minutes ago, you’re on my time now,” Noah hissed. “That makes it my business.”
“What did you want instead? For me to stay and suck your cock on my break?” Rick pounded on his chest and leaned into Noah’s space. “I ain’t doing that for some shit job like this. Fuck you.”
“That’s it.” The last thread of Noah’s patience snapped, uncoiling all of his good will. “You’re done. Get the hell out of here. I’ll send your last check in the mail.”
“You can’t fire me!”
“I just did!”
“Fine.” The useless bastard circled around Noah, as if he were some kind of gangbanger punk. “I don’t want to work for some ass licker anyway. You fucking cunt.” Rick spit again, and the wet projectile hit Noah’s cheek with force.
Noah grabbed the prick by his T-shirt and slammed him into the side of the truck. “Spit on me again. Go ahead.” As Noah presented his other cheek, he promised with a vicious softness, “I will break every fucking bone in your body for it, one at a time, and put you in a goddamn coma for life.” He made eye contact with less than a half dozen inches between them. “You take one look at me and decide if I can’t do it.”
With a struggle, Rick managed to get Noah’s fingers out of his shirt. As he ran, he shouted, “Fucker!” and shot Noah the finger.
Once the guy turned the corner, Noah exhaled, and adrenaline rushed from his body, leaving him weak. He’d never had to fire anyone before. And for all the discomfort with friends and family about his newly exposed sexuality, he’d never had to deal with someone getting right in his face with name-calling, nor had anyone ever spit on him. Grimacing, Noah used his T-shirt to wipe his cheek.
From behind, a voice reached him with, “At least he didn’t get in a car.”
“He doesn’t have one,” Noah replied on automatic. “Thank God.” He turned and went stiff as a board. Again. Dana stood in the entrance to her salon. Clearly she’d witnessed the entire fiasco with Rick. Noah held up his head and made himself meet her stare. “I apologize, Ms. Culpeper. You should not have witnessed something like that from someone you hired to do a job.”
“It was ugly, I’ll grant you that,” she replied, “but warranted on your part.”
Noah clenched his teeth so hard he made his jaw ache. “Still, I should have stayed above his tirade.”
Studying him, the woman’s tough-girl vibe softened. “Sometimes it’s not possible; I get that. Look, I hate to rain on what is clearly already a downpour on your day, but what is the status of my repairs now that you’ve fired your employee?” Gentle camaraderie gone, she pinpointed him with an unblinking stare. “If I have to bring someone else in, I need to know now.”
Noah fucking hated when anyone, but particularly a client, saw him in a vulnerable state. “I promised you I would have everything done by Friday,” he repeated in a low tone, “and I will.”
Dana crossed her arms and stood her ground. “I need a guarantee, or I have to let you go and find someone else.”
“I don’t walk away from jobs; that’s not who I am.” His mind racing, searching ten steps ahead, Noah said, “If for some reason I don’t complete this work for you by the deadline, I won’t charge you a penny for my labor. My work will be free. Think of that as my driving incentive to finish the work. How is that for a deal?” He extended his hand in her direction, and held his breath.
With a grin, Dana clasped her hand in Noah’s. “It’s one I can shake on.” After sealing the deal with a handshake, she added, “I still prefer you get the job done by Friday, though. I’d rather pay you
and
be open for business.”
Noah locked his hands behind his back in a military stance. “And that is what will happen.”
“I’ll leave you to it then.” Dana dipped her head and walked to her car, her crazy-high stiletto heels clicking on the brick sidewalk the whole way.
Shit. Fuck. Damn.
Once Dana was out of sight, Noah banged his fist into the side of his truck. He should have known that not only would Rick turn out to be a pain in the ass, he’d also become a liability. Now Noah had zero time to find someone to take Rick’s place, or else give away a shitload of his time for free. One person immediately came to Noah’s mind—someone who’d never been far from his thoughts even though Noah hadn’t seen him in over a week.
Zane.
Hellfire and damnation.
Noah had just gone on a decently successful date with Ram this past weekend. By the time dessert had come to the table, Noah had actually managed to stop comparing their dinner together to the one he’d shared with Zane and the kids. Did he really want to tempt a good thing by yanking Zane full force into his life again? The few phone calls he and Zane had shared in the last nine days were hard enough for Noah to get through without melting into the floor whenever Zane inevitably chuckled in a way that made Noah’s stomach flip-flop. Or worse, made Noah get hard the few times Zane had said his name.
Noah knew the guy still needed work. One of the things they’d discussed was Zane zipping through the repair work on the cabin due to the huge amount of free time he still had on his hands. Zane would certainly appreciate the money. But could Noah handle a renewal of their growing friendship if he gave Zane the job?
The nearly barren fridge in Zane’s cabin suddenly filled Noah’s mind, and he muttered a curse, aimed squarely at himself.
I am so fucking selfish.
Zane didn’t have a whole lot for himself and his siblings, yet he’d openly shared what he did have with Noah and Matt over dinner last week. Was Noah so goddamn unsure of his ability to control his emotions and actions that he would deny a good person some honest work and a decent wage? Noah glanced at the torn-apart salon, and he whispered another curse. More than that, it wasn’t as if Noah could afford to give away his labor for free. And that was exactly what would happen if he didn’t have another person assisting him in this job.
With his options limited, and a heart already ticking much too fast with his decision made, Noah grabbed his phone out of his pocket to make a call.
* * * *
Zane picked up a spoon, dipped it into a humongous pot of boiling liquid, and brought the Bolognese sauce to his mouth for a taste.
Mmnn.
His taste buds tingled with the near-perfect mix of wine, a handful of seasonings, the perfect mixture of ground beef and veal, and a hint of tomato paste for zing. Mickey, the restaurant’s chef, had said Zane had a good tongue for flavors and food, and had offered to show him how to prepare some of the signature dishes on the restaurant’s eclectic menu. Mickey was a mountain of a dude, who had to be at least sixty-five, and he’d been running the restaurant’s kitchen for nearly thirty years. Many of the most popular dishes on the menu were his personal creations, and Zane was ridiculously touched and honored the guy had chosen to pass along this knowledge and wisdom to him.
“How’s it taste going down?” Mickey asked, his thick Southern accent seemingly out of place for a guy who created such complex, global food. “Damn great. Right?”
Zane bit his lip, but then blurted, “I’d maybe add a little bit more celery salt.”
God, please don’t go off and roar me right out of the kitchen.
“Just a touch.”
“What?” Mickey thundered over to Zane and grabbed a spoon off the counter. Dipping it in, he took a taste of the sauce too. And then he snarled, which made him look like a gray grizzly bear. “Damn it. Who laid out my ingredients after lunch?” As he spun, he glared at the few people working and cleaning in the kitchen. “Who?”
“Pipe down, Mick.” Violet, the widowed matriarch of the family-owned business, breezed into the kitchen through the swinging doors. “I did. I guess I got distracted.” With her diminutive size, Violet’s pink-tinted, gray-haired head barely reached Mickey’s shoulders. “You always taste everything, so it’s not like I ever worry about something bad going out to a table.”
Mickey leaned down in Violet’s face and growled, “Woman…” He looked as if he wanted to pick her up by the shoulders and remove her not only from his kitchen but his life. “You are not in charge in here. Your daughter and son-in-law know I only trust them, myself, and now Zane to lay out my ingredients. You are not precise. You never have been, and you never will be!”
Violet, all five-feet-four of her, poked Mickey in the chest hard enough to make him step back. “Don’t get all high and mighty with me. I don’t have to tell you that I ran this place single-handedly for ten years after Walton died. If I was that bad you would have walked out on me straight after he passed away. I know what the gosh-darn-heck I’m doing,” she smacked the metal worktable in the center of the kitchen, “and I’ll fire you before you can get that pork roast in the oven if you keep up with your mouth. I swear I will.”
Mickey bared his teeth, and a rumble erupted out of him. “One day I’m gonna take you up on that threat, woman!”
With a smile that had surely laid men out in her day, Violet pulled on Mickey’s chef jacket, straightened it for him, and replied, “But it ain’t today, so get on with it before I get tired of your pretty face and order you to move on from employment in my restaurant.” Violet then strolled across the kitchen, as if perusing items in a store.