Heart on the Run (15 page)

“
Is Chaz actually into the whole Halloween thing? He seems a little…um…uptight to be a scare junkie.”

“
He agreed to it, didn’t even hesitate.” Sprocket handed the mug back filled.

They both took a moment to sip their brew in peaceful silence. They never had the type of friendship to where they had to keep a running commentary. They both enjoyed the quiet.

“
Will he, though? Run, you know, eventually?” Mason broke the silence.

And that was the question that Sprocket dreaded even when he knew it had to be answered.

“
Does it matter at this point?” He shrugged. “I mean really, will knowing he is gonna haul ass stop me from hurting when he does? The only thing I can do is damage control to prepare for it, which means until he gives me something…anything…” Sprocket paused and took another taste of his coffee, biding time before he said what he knew would sound hateful and childish, but had to be verbalized anyway. “Until he proves history won’t repeat itself, he’ll get nothing more than a good time from me.”

There…he’d said it out loud. He’d thought it from the first time Chaz came over to cook, but this conversation made it so real. Like black Sharpie permanent.

And even if his heart was already invested in this ordeal, it didn’t matter because no one but Sprocket would ever know that.

“
I believe you,” Mason whispered sadly. “I’m sorry.”

Sprocket put his mug down and nudged Mason’s leg. “Your turn. Spill the secrets of the great and powerful Grams.”

Mason’s face broke out in a shit-eating grin. “Grams is a fraud.”

Jumping away from the counter and his best friend, Sprocket tilted his head up, looking at the heavens. “Grams, don’t hit him with a lightning bolt. I live here too and fixing a hole in the roof has gotta be expensive.”

“
Who’re you kidding? She’s up there laughing her ass off at us for not figuring this out sooner. We completely forgot she played pinochle with the corner store owner’s wife, Mrs. Mulberry. Evidently, during one game, Mrs. Mulberry mentioned how we would stop by the corner store after school once in a while to raid their quarter bin specials. She just mentioned it in passing because we were always so polite with whoever was working the counter. She complimented us on that. But it got Grams thinking…so they devised a plan. Every time we stopped, she would make note of what each of us bought and would call Grams before we got home.”

“
Leave it to the card playing ladies!”

Nodding, Mason continued, “The only reason I found out was I went in there a couple years back and Mrs. Mulberry manned the cash register, her son had to fix the walk-in cooler door. We got to talking and naturally Grams came up, and she just got so reminiscent she let it slip.”

“
You’ve known for two years and didn’t tell me?” Sprocket punched him in the arm.

“
Ow! I was waiting for when I needed something from you bad enough.” Mason rubbed his reddening skin. “And this thing between you and the chef…well, this qualified.”

Chapter Eleven

“
So… Macy?” He eyed the waitress hopefully. “You were born and raised here, right?”

She didn’t look up from her task, just kept filling salt and pepper shakers and wiping them down. “Yep. All my twenty-nine plus years, right here in Parkerburg. Why?”

“
Have you ever been to a haunted house? Specifically that one over on Craymore?” Jesus…he was bouncing! Chaz made a concerted effort to keep his feet—heel and toe—on the ground.

“
The one the Psi Epsilon Ratbastard frat brothers put on?” Now she was looking at him, pretty blue eyes narrowed in judgement.

“
Uh…is it?”

“
No. That’s the one over on McIlhenny,” Dermot interjected, shoving a basket of carrots at Chaz.

Chaz accepted the basket and turned to his boss. “The frat brother one?”

“
Yeah. Booze and blood and gore. And the cops always come. But they raise a shitload of money for charity with it, so the university lets it go on year after year.” He nodded at the basket. “I need those cleaned and shaved for slaw.”

“
You got it. What about the one on Craymore Street?” he persisted, heading for his own station. “Have either of you been to that one?”

“
Too scary for me,” Macy confessed, loading the condiments into baskets.

“
I went. She’s right. It’s got scare over gore and the added bonus of being family friendly…as in no alcohol. Why? You thinking of going?”

And dammit, he was blushing again. “I—”

“
We’re going Wednesday night.”

Chaz jumped, feeling his cheeks darken at the unexpected intrusion. “Sprocket!” And damn again. Why did his voice have to go all husky and low when Sprocket was around?

“
Hey, Xander sent me on break because he said I was, and I quote, ‘too goddamned smug’ to stock shelves with him this morning. So… How about it?” He waved a cardboard cup holder with two Prudence’s cups and a brown paper bakery bag at Chaz. “Wanna head over to the park for a coffee break.”

Inhaling that enticing pumpkin spice scent that would probably be forever linked to Sprocket in his memory, Chaz glanced dubiously at his boss. “I—”

“
Oh, go on.” Dermot grinned. “If it makes Xander happy… Just make sure those carrots are ready for the soup pot by ten.”

“
I will.” Grinning himself, Chaz took off his apron and darted to the back of the room to grab his hoodie off a peg. Today was beautiful, warmer than usual, clear-skied and perfect for a date at the gazebo. “Hurry, Sprocket! Before he changes his mind!” They all laughed as Sprocket followed him out the back door into the alley.

“
Why’d you come out this way?” Sprocket asked, looking around at their surroundings. “It’s a longer walk from here.”

Chaz took one of the coffee cups out of the holder. “Yeah…but it’s more private.” He sipped, glancing coyly up at Sprocket from under his lashes, hoping for flirtatious rather than corny.

“
Oh, do we need privacy?” Sprocket took the second coffee and tossed the cardboard holder into the Dumpster they passed. “What—”

Chaz silenced him with a kiss…letting his eyes close for a brief second as he heard the bakery bag hit the ground, and Sprocket embraced him, juggling their coffee carefully. His lips were warm and pumpkin-flavored, his body lean and hard, and Chaz let himself rest…for just a minute, to dart his tongue over the soft moist lips and flick it against slick teeth, then retreated swiftly, pulling away and sipping his coffee to hide his nervousness.

“
Yeah, I guess privacy isn’t a bad thing.” Sprocket whistled softly in between coffee sips as they approached the end of the alley and the cross street that led to the gazebo. “So, whatcha going to wear for a costume?”

“
Costume?”

“
To the haunted house. We have to dress up.”

“
Well, shit.” The words slipped out as Chaz realized he didn’t actually have a costume that was scary. “I—”

“
Don’t worry. Mason and I dress up every year. I’m sure we can come up with something that will fit.” The light changed, and they crossed the street into the park. From this direction, the gazebo was back the way they’d walked, and they even did a synchronous about-face that made Chaz’s heart leap and his traitorous brain mumble something that sounded suspiciously like “See? He’s perfect,” before his common sense squashed it.

But the idea of wearing a costume that belonged to Mason? That just didn’t sit right. He’d watched the two closely in the last few weeks, and while they were clearly long-time friends and knew each other very well, even though he hadn’t seen anything overtly sexual… He still felt Mason’s eyes on him, judging him, as though measuring his fitness or lack thereof to be with Sprocket.

“
I have something,” he protested, unable to stomach the idea of wearing Mason’s clothes, even if it was a costume he’d only worn one day a year.

Because you’re jealous.

Don’t be an idiot.

Of how well they get along.

Of that instinctive intimacy that shows in how they move together, easy, familiar even when it’s just folding a load of laundry or setting the table for dinner.

Life-long friends and roommates.
That’s all.

“
Okay,” Sprocket caught Chaz’s free hand.

Chaz looked up in surprise.

Sprocket nodded toward the gazebo. “Looks like we’ll have to take our s’mores muffins somewhere else.”

Chaz casually pulled his hand away and pretended to push hair behind his ear as he followed Sprocket’s nod. Sure enough, two figures already occupied the gazebo, a thin hyperactive guy in a battered leather jacket, and a taller, darker figure that he couldn’t make out. What was obvious was the two were having a disagreement, and Chaz didn’t want his break ruined with that. “You’re right. Let’s…uh…” He cast a swift, assessing glance around the park. “Uh…over there, by the Colonel?”

The Colonel was a bronze figure on horseback, said to have been one of the early settlers of the area. The statue had stood in the park for over a hundred years, and though Chaz found the man’s expression too stern and judgmental for comfort, it did at least offer a bit of protection from prying eyes.

“
Okay,” Sprocket agreed readily. “You sure you don’t mind scary? We can go to the gory haunted house with beer if you prefer.”

“
Uh…no. Scary is fine.”
As long as you’re there to hold my hand.
His fingers clenched into a fist at the very thought. “Uh… Did you say s’mores muffins?”

***

“
Sprocket? Um…what are you doing here? Our da—our plans aren’t until tomorrow.”

Chaz wrinkled his nose so darn cute when things confused him, and Sprocket showing up on his doorstep after they got off work evidently confused the hell out of him.

Well good, considering a day didn’t go by that he didn’t do the exact same thing to Sprocket. Hell, he couldn’t even count the number of times Chaz crossed his mind. Half those times Sprocket decided to call off the whole idea of them dating, the other half he ended up fucking his hand—or mattress, or pillow, once he actually humped the wall of his shower—until he yelled Chaz’s name. Bottom line, he needed to invest in some toys if he intended to mull over his (non) relationship with Chaz Millsworth.

How was it that out of the two, Chaz had a drawer of wonders and he didn’t?

Sprocket held the paper bag he carried to the side and leaned over to kiss Chaz’s adorably wrinkled nose. “You called it a date.”

“
What? I did not,” Chaz sputtered even as he moved out of the way for Sprocket to enter. “We made plans, and even if it were to be referred to as a…a date, that wouldn’t technically be wrong. There are lots of types of dates. There are coffee dates, and shopping dates, and homework dates, and…”

“
Sexy haunted house dates,” Sprocket supplied.

“
Yes!” Chaz agreed, stopping mid-nod to shake his head. “No, that’s not what I meant.”

“
Okay.” Sprocket let the conversation die, knowing he stepped away slightly in the lead and not wanting to kick the subject to death. “Are you hungry?” he asked, making his way to Chaz’s kitchen.

“
Um…” Chaz ran ahead of him, turning and stopping in an obvious attempt to halt Sprocket’s forward progress. “Why? I mean, are
you
hungry? I can whip something up for the both of us if you’d like.”

Sprocket advanced, smiling when Chaz matched his pace with backward steps.