Chapter 18
Teague
O n the one hand, I was glad Bob had found a car for Oakley. It was a late model crossover, with a ridiculous amount of miles but still in great shape. Perfect for the area and would handle well in the winter. Even better, Bob had gotten it at auction and only had to put in minimal work, so it had been a reasonable price. Dad had paid Bob for it outright so Oakley wouldn’t be saddled with exorbitant interest for financing, and my nephew had worked out a payment plan with his grandfather. Oak got a reliable vehicle and the independence he’d needed. Dad got to do something good for his eldest grandchild. And Bob got maximum payout for minimal effort. It was a great deal for everyone involved.
Except me.
Because now that Oakley had his own transportation, it only made sense he would stop by Regan’s in the morning and be the one to deliver the baked goods, since he had to go to work anyway. Which he was loving, and that made me happy. But it didn’t give me the excuse to pop in and see Charlie every morning anymore. I would still get the opportunity on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, since those were Oak’s days off—the Inn was busiest on the weekends, and he needed to be there, so the tradeoff was a “weekend” in the middle of a week—but that meant the rest of the time I didn’t get to make deliveries.
I could have insisted, but it didn’t make sense. Besides, Oakley seemed so happy to take on the task that I felt like an ass pushing it just so I could see the man I was trying to date. And really, I didn’t need an excuse anymore, did I? The thought bloomed and I couldn’t contain the grin. I could just pop in to see him any time I wanted. Because we were dating now. Starting to, anyway. It was acceptable to visit as long as I didn’t distract him.
Wasn’t it?
Dammit. Dating was hard. I didn’t know the rules anymore, as it had been several years since I’d done anything more than random hookups. And a while since I’d even done that. It occurred to me that the rules could be different with Charlie, too. I could ask, but how did I bring it up without sounding like an overeager golden retriever? I mean, I was a doofus sometimes but I didn’t want Charlie to think that. At least not until I was sure he would find it charming instead of a turn off.
I needed reinforcements, and I knew just where to turn.
When I let myself in the side door at Sugar Rush, the music was loud enough that I knew Regan wouldn’t have heard me. The shop was open, and Lacey or Sage would be working the front. I moved slowly, knowing there was no way I wouldn’t startle Regan, but knowing I could minimize it if I moved into their periphery.
As predicted, Regan jumped, but it wasn’t bad. The glare they gave me was expected, but I gave my sibling my best “aw shucks” expression and Regan smiled back. But it quickly morphed into a frown.
“Oak already picked up the Black Dog order, and you’d be late anyway.”
“I know. I’m not here for that. But while we’re on the subject, did you—”
“Yes. I sent a Unicorn Fart for Charlie on your behalf.” They cocked their head to the side. “Though really, I’ve been the one gifting the confection, since you don’t actually pay.”
We couldn’t have that. I immediately reached into my back pocket for my wallet but stopped when Regan let out a scoff.
“I’m kidding, and you know it. Stop it.” Regan dusted off their hands, then leaned a hip against the stainless steel counter. “What’s up?”
“Any chance you can do a Gargoyle’s Wing?” I gave them my best puppy dog eyes, since I knew it hadn’t been on the menu in a while. They didn’t sell well for some reason I couldn’t fathom, but Regan supposed it was the gray colored frosting or the nib sugar on top that threw people off.
Regan’s eyebrows shot to their hairline. “You’re going to see Felix, eh?”
I shrugged. “If I ply him with baked goods, he might be more open to doling out advice.”
“A bribe. I see.” Regan’s mouth puckered as they thought. Then they nodded. “It’ll have to be yellow cake instead of white, but it’s nearly the same, just a little more buttery. He’ll complain, but he’ll still be happy.”
“You’re the literal best,” I said, meaning every word.
They waved me off. “Go have Sage box up a couple of eclairs while I mix up the frosting. You know he loves those too. And it’ll take me a few minutes.”
“Thank you.” I turned, but when they called my name I stopped and glanced back over my shoulder.
Regan was smiling. “You know I’m always willing to listen and help.”
“I do. And I love you for it. But Re-Re?”
“I hate that name,” they said with a scowl.
“Why do you think I use it?” I winked. And then smiled. “You’re awesome at listening. But, honey, you’re aromantic. You can’t exactly help me here.”
Their mouth went round, and then they chuckled. “Oh. Well then. Carry on, brother dear. Baked good bribes coming up.”
Felix was waiting for me on the porch by the time I pulled up, a French press and two mugs on the little table between the Adirondack chairs. I’d had the good sense to give him a heads up this time and mentioned that I was coming straight from Sugar Rush. He greeted me warmly and then eyed the boxes in my hands.
“Three?” He lifted one dark brow.
“This one’s mine,” I said, placing one of the cupcake boxes on my lap. Then handed the smaller flat box and the other cupcake over to him. “These are for you.”
He eyed them warily as he took them but set the flat box aside. He knew what had to be in there, and he was more interested in the cupcake box. He slowly lifted the lid as though whatever was inside would bite him, but when he caught a glimpse of the frosting he flipped it up and gasped.
“Regan stopped making these, which is a damn shame. Why the bribe? How bad is it?”
“It’s not a bribe!” I feigned innocence but it absolutely didn’t work, so I let out a sigh. “I wanna talk about me and get advice, so. Your favorite?”
For a long moment, Felix didn’t say anything. Just stared at the cupcake and chewed on the inside of his bottom lip. I knew that tell. He was trying to figure out how to say something he didn’t think I wanted to hear. I also knew that if I tried to rush him, or force him to talk before he was ready, he’d just get cranky and short, and that wouldn’t serve either of us. So I sat, anxiety gnawing at my stomach, until he finally took a breath.
Felix’s voice was soft but sure. “Just because I experience my version of dysmorphia doesn’t mean that I’ll have any insight into how or what you should do for Charlie. I can’t speak for him, and I wouldn’t want to. I don’t like the implications that you’re using the disabled guy for that kind of info.”
“What?” It took me a second to sort out what he said. “No! Oh god, no. That’s not what I meant or needed at all. It’s not about that. I don’t care about that. I mean, I care. Of course I care. But that’s not…I mean, Charlie and I….” I paused because I was rambling and I needed a second. I breathed in and then out. “I need advice on dating a guy, Felix. It’s been a really fucking long time for me. My last two relationships, if you can even call them that, were with women. I need to know about dating a dude.”
“Oh.” Felix was quiet for a few seconds. Then he scooped his cupcake out of the box, tossed the box aside, and sat back with a happy little hum. “Well, then. Lay it on me. Catch me up.”
I stared at him, mouth open, for a long moment. Then I chuckled. “Jeez, Felix. Do people really do that? Only use you for disability info?”
“Some.” He shrugged like it didn’t bother him, but I saw the tightness around his eyes. It went away a second later when he bit into the cupcake, smearing frosting all over his lips. He closed his eyes in bliss, and I let him commune with his treat for a few minutes. No point in trying to speak while he was having a foodgasm. Halfway through, though, he motioned for me to go on, a rolling of his hand, and gave me a pointed look.
Now that I knew he was listening, I brought him up to speed. First about how well Charlie and I had worked together while we’d built his porch, and then some of what Charlie had shared. Not all of it, because I wasn’t the kind to tell other people’s stories, but a bit. I told Felix all about our perfect first date the other night, and how much we enjoyed ourselves.
“I absolutely adore him, Lex,” I said, falling back into the old nickname from high school. “I just want to hug him tight and keep him safe. I wanna cuddle the shit out of him and hear him laugh every day. I want to talk to him, and support him, and hopefully one day, maybe, eventually do nasty, beautiful things with him. But even if we don’t, just being with him, looking at his face, makes my heart happy, you know? I just wanna be with him and breathe his air.”
Felix had finished his cupcake at some point, and now he was sipping his coffee and staring at me over the rim of his mug. It was a big mug, heavy ceramic and glazed a bright blue, but it didn’t hide the little smirk he had going on.
“You’ve got it bad, huh, Teague?”
Why bother denying it? “I really do.”
“So, what’s the problem?” Felix lifted one brow, a trick I’d always envied since I was unable to make my face cooperate. “You and he talked about slow, but you know he likes you back. You know dating is on the table.”
“Yeah, I do. And I’m thrilled. Slow is fine. Slow is good.”
Felix gestured with his mug. “So?”
“So, I don’t know the rules.” I blew out a breath and flopped back against the chair, rubbing my face with my hands. “We saw each other yesterday and texted a little yesterday evening. But it was nothing of importance. I mean, it was great just to have idle chit chat with him. I love that. But it was just that. And I texted this good morning today, and he texted back, but….”
“Teague, I’m not following.”
I glanced at him and I saw how confused he was. It matched what was going on inside me and I was having trouble putting my thoughts into words. I took a minute to try and figure it out, but I wasn’t any closer to an answer. Oh well. Felix had known me since before my growth spurt. He’d been on the receiving end of my word vomit more than once, and he could just deal with it again.
“Women have all these expectations, right? At least the ones I’ve dated. I swear, Gemma watched far too many rom coms and had weird ideas about how things should go. Like she expected us to follow a script, only I didn’t get the pages.” Wait, I was going off into the weeds. I took a breath. “Like I couldn’t be too eager or text too often, but if I didn’t text often enough she thought I didn’t care. And like, after a date, in the beginning, there was always this cool down period where we did…well, kind of like what Charlie and I did last night. Chat but nothing too deep. So, am I supposed to wait to ask him out again? A few days like with Gemma? Is that the rule? Or is it different for guys?”
Felix wrapped both hands around his mug and leveled me with a look. “Okay, first let me ask you this: what do you want to do?”
I sighed. “I don’t want to wait. I want him to know just how eager and invested I am. I don’t want to hide those feelings. I don’t want to play games.”
His look turned pointed. “So don’t.”
I blinked. “What?”
“If you don’t want to play games, then don’t play games.” He said it like it was just so simple. And maybe from where he was sitting, it was. But it didn’t feel like that to me.
“But what if—”
“Look.” Felix adjusted his position, winced, and then adjusted again. “Grab that stool for me?”
He pointed and I leaned over, nearly falling out of the chair, to get ahold of it and drag it over. Felix took it from me and put it exactly where he needed it, lifting his left leg onto it so it supported his thigh. After a few seconds, some of the tension eased from his expression.
“Look,” he repeated. “A lot of women think a script needs to be followed because that’s what society conditions them to think. At least that’s my take on it. I haven’t actually dated a girl since I accepted I was gay back in high school. But I don’t think this is a male versus female thing.”
“You don’t?”
“No. People are people, and they all have their own experiences and needs and wants. Guys aren’t a certain way just because they’re guys, you know? Some of the men I’ve known like to play those kinds of games because they like it. Some do it because they think they should.” He gave me another pointed look. “Everything you’ve told me about Charlie gives me the impression that he’s slow to open himself up because of some kind of trauma. I don’t think he’s playing hard to get or anything.”
“No, you’re right about that,” I mused.
“But Charlie isn’t the only one in this thing, so if you don’t want to play games, then you need to lay it out there. Make your feelings known and ask him out whenever you want.”
Felix had a point. This is why I came to him in the first place. He’d always been good at looking at the bigger picture and problem solving. There was just one issue, as far as I could see. “But what if I move too fast and scare him away?”
“You said it yourself. You pump the brakes.” He smirked at me. “You seem to know exactly what to say to him when you’re with him. And I know you mean it. So, what’s with the existential crisis now?”
I stared at him. With that, he hit the nail on the head. Why was I freaking out about this now? I meant every word I’d said to Charlie and knew I could do it. I didn’t need to freak out about anything.
“And hey, remind Charlie he can pump the brakes too. If he thinks things are moving too fast, he can call a timeout as well, right?”
“You so smart,” I teased, reaching out to ruffle his hair. He batted my hand away.
“Quit it. Just ask the man out again.” Felix raised his middle finger in my direction, just for added emphasis, which made me chuckle. We were grown ass men who’d been friends for more than two decades but sometimes we devolved into fifteen-year-old boys.
But as I reached for my pocket, the phone chimed. I nearly fumbled it as I fished it out. When I saw Charlie’s text, my grin hurt my face.
You busy tomorrow night?
No plans yet. Have something in mind?
Come over? Comfy clothes, junk food, movie night hang out.
Sounds awesome. Just tell me what time and what to bring.
I looked up at Felix and wiggled my phone. “Looks like I’ve got a date.”
The gray sweatpants were an unfair advantage. I knew it. But hell if I wasn’t going to play any card I had. Charlie had wanted casual—that was clear from his texts—and I was following that. But if I happened to pull out the thin pair that accentuated certain things about myself, well, I couldn’t be blamed. It might have been a casual night in, but it was still a date, and I was going to make the most of it.
Cricket greeted me when I parked at the cabin, sniffing both me and the truck before wandering away. Probably checking for explosives or something. Seemed like the kind of thing she would do. But since she left without so much as a backward glance, I figured I was clear.
Charlie opened the door as soon as I approached, and I wasn’t going to point out that it seemed like he was waiting for me. All I could do was take him in, and the way the soft glow from the interior lighting backlit him. He was an angel on Earth, and I just wanted to hug the stuffing out of him. But before I could make the move, Charlie’s eyes went wide and then his gaze heated as he raked it over me.
The sweatpants were absolutely the right choice.
“Hello, there,” I said, voice low. “Thanks for inviting me.”
Charlie stepped back and there was enough light now that I could see him swallow before he spoke. “Thanks for coming.”
I stepped inside and shut the door behind me, then opened my arms. Charlie almost fell into them, squeezing me back as I hugged him tightly. I’d heard the expression “touch starved” before but I never really knew what it meant until Charlie. I knew he got affection from Nic and Dana, and I was sure he got it from his brother and niblings. But there was some about the touch of a lover—though we weren’t there yet—that hit differently. Familial affection was one thing. Loving touch was another. And damn if Charlie wasn’t thirsty for that kind of affection.
Which was totally fine because I had more than enough to spare, and everything and anything he wanted was his.
The smell of pizza hit my nose, and though I didn’t want to pull back, was, in fact, content to stand here and hug him for as long as he wanted, my stomach chose that moment to let out a lion-like growl.
Charlie snickered into my chest, then squeezed me hard for a second before pulling back. Not out of my arms but far enough so that he could see my face. The mischievous quirk to his lips made my heart sing.
“That was truly an impressive sound,” Charlie said, his voice still ringing with laughter.
“What can I say? I’m a growing boy.”
“Grow any more and you won’t be able to find shirts that fit.” Charlie didn’t seem like he’d mind too much if my shirts got tighter, so I just waggled my eyebrows.
“Food?”
Charlie practically giggled and took my hand to lead me the seven steps into the living area. The coffee table was laid out with an impressive spread. Two pizzas, one with mushroom and pepperoni, the other with sausage, ham, bacon, and pepperoni, graced the middle of the table. On one side there was French onion dip and a bowl of ruffled potato chips. On the other was a Sugar Rush box. Too curious not to look, I peeked under the lid to see half a dozen of Regan’s handmade soft pretzels complete with a cheese sauce and a spicy mustard. I took it all in with a low whistle.
“Looks like I’m not the only one that did some recon, eh?”
Charlie blushed, and damn that was a pretty sight, but the quirk of his lips told me he was pleased his information gathering had been successful. “What do you want to drink? I have Dr. Pepper and Barq’s.”
I clutched my heart and made a dramatic noise. “Every last one of my favorites! Are you trying to woo me, Mr. Caldwell?”
Charlie looked away, but not before I caught sight of the blush darkening his cheeks. He headed for the kitchenette. “Just tell me what you want to drink.”
“The root beer, please.” The space was so small, I didn’t have to raise my voice, and I turned to track his movements as he retrieved a twenty-ounce bottle from the fridge. He grabbed a cherry Pepsi for himself and avoided my gaze all the way back. This was clearly a “pump the brakes” moment so I made sure my smile was appreciative and not lecherous. “Thanks. What are we watching?”
It took Charlie a second to answer. “You said you want me to show you Wimbledon . Is that okay?”
“It’s great. Looking forward to it, and all this yummy food. Did you make the pizza?” Food was the safer topic right now, and since it was clearly homemade and not from one of the two pizzerias in town, I knew it had to be either him or…
“Dana. I tried to help or even do it myself, but you can guess how well that idea worked. But trust me, it’s way better than anything you can get from a pizza joint.”
“I’ll be the judge of that. I’ll have you know, Giacomo’s makes outstanding pizza. Their margherita is to die for.” I sat on the couch, and when he did too, I leaned in conspiratorially. “I also make a mean pizza. Now, this meat lovers is a favorite of mine, and I’m something of a connoisseur, so let me be the judge.”
“Try it.” Charlie handed me a thick paper plate. “I guarantee you’ve never had better.”
I served myself three slices—I’d never met a pizza I didn’t like—and held Charlie’s gaze as I took my first bite. I was all ready to make some sort of quip or joke, but the instant I bit into it, my eyes went wide. It really was one of the best pizzas I’d ever had. The toppings were in the perfect ratio, the cheese almost too much but melted to perfection, and I tasted more than just mozzarella, and the sauce had the perfect acidic bite without being overpowering. I didn’t have to say a word, because my expression clearly said it all.
“See? I told you.” Charlie’s voice was smug.
I swallowed before I spoke. “You were right. This is amazing. I’ll have to see if she’ll give me her dough recipe. It’s so good.”
My next bite was far too big, but Charlie laughed, so it was worth it. He settled back after getting his own pizza—just one slice—and I noticed that in the process, he’d scooted closer to me. We weren’t touching, but there was barely an inch between us. I wanted to put my feet up and pull him in, but that would have to come later. After we ate, I’d see if he’d be open to cuddling. But for now, I was more than happy just to sit so closely to him.
“Movie?” Charlie leaned forward and grabbed the remote from between the pizzas, and this time when he sat back, he was pressed against me.
Nice move, Charlie.
I grinned. “Let’s watch.”