Chapter 2
2
“G ood afternoon, Mr. Zeke.”
“Good afternoon, honey.” Zeke dropped off yesterday’s glass in the bus tub, picked up his Cape Cod from the bar, waved to Jamie, and headed toward the outer door to finish the walk to his cabin.
This was his favorite walk—his four p.m. walk. The nine a.m. walk was pleasant, but he liked this one much better.
“Is this one thousand?”
“Nine hundred and ninety-nine. Tomorrow, I’ll have supper here.” It would be a celebration, after all.
“Oh neat.” Jamie had always been interested in what he was up to. “Do you know what you’re having? Did you order ahead?”
“I didn’t. Do you know what the special is?” He liked food, and he wasn’t particularly picky, but he did have his favorites—chocolate ice cream, most especially.
“Tomorrow? I’m not sure, but I know Chef just got a big shipment of beef, so if I had to guess, it’s steak or short ribs, or something.”
“Perfect. I’ll cross my fingers for something amazing and chocolate for dessert.” Zeke figured Jamie would surely put his request in, right?
“Fingers crossed!” Jamie picked up the bar phone.
Yeah, chocolate was in his future for sure.
“Thank you, Jamie!” Zeke wandered out into the sunlight, barreling right into a tall man full-tilt. Bang.
“Whoa. Hey.” The man caught him by the shoulders, blue eyes looking at him with concern. “Are you okay?”
“Oops. Dammit.” He’d lost his drink, and it was pink. That rhymed. “How’s your shirt?”
“My—” The guy looked down at his chest. “Oh. Goodness. That’s… pink. And wet.”
“Oh. Dude. Man. That. I—fuck a doodle do.” Zeke grabbed the guy’s hand and tugged him back into the bar. “Jamie? Club soda? I made a terrible mess.”
Jamie looked up from the book he was reading behind the bar. “A mess? Oh. Master Wesley. Let me get you?—”
Wesley just waved a hand. “It’s all right. It’s just a shirt. I have others.”
“Let me send someone to get one for you.” Jamie handed Zeke a glass of club soda and a dry bar towel, then picked up the bar phone again.
“I’m so sorry. Seriously. Sorry. The sun was in my eyes, and no one is ever out there at that time.”
“Please don’t worry about it.” Wesley blotted his shirt with the club soda on the towel Zeke handed him. “I’m glad you didn’t cut yourself on that glass. You were moving pretty fast.”
“Charlie is getting a clean shirt from your room, Master Wesley.”
“Thank you, Jamie. I think there is broken glass out there as well.”
“Yep. I’m on it, Sir. Thank you.” Jamie rounded the bar, a broom and dustpan in hand.
“I’m so sorry. Do you want a drink? I know how to make things.” Sort of.
Wesley put the rag down on the bar and offered him a hand. “I’m Wesley.”
“Zeke. Pleased. What would you like?” Hopefully, it was wine or beer.
“Zeke. I thought we ought to be friends since we’ve already had a close encounter.” Wesley winked at him. “Just some water, please. I just flew in, and I’m thirsty.” Wesley looked down at his shirt. “That was cranberry?”
“And vodka. So sorry.” He grabbed a glass and got the soda gun. There was water on here, wasn’t there?
“Zeke! Get out from behind my bar!” Jamie waggled his finger at Zeke. “Now.”
“My apologies, he was just getting me some water. My request.”
Jamie paused as he scurried back behind the bar, then glanced at Wesley. “I see. No worries, Sir, it’s a… regulation, that’s all. For safety.”
“Of course. My fault entirely.” Wesley gave him a smile.
Zeke rolled his eyes. “He’s just scared I’ll move in.”
After all, that was, in effect, what he’d done here. He’d moved in nine hundred and ninety-nine days ago and stayed.
“With good reason.” Jamie snorted. “Almost a thousand of them.”
“Yep. Do you want me to try and fix your shirt? I have sofa. Soda. Club soda.” Dammit.
“Thank you, I’m fine. I?—”
“Master Wesley?” Charlie showed up with a clean shirt on a hanger.
“Ah, thank you.”
“Restrooms are right there.” Jamie pointed across the bar.
“Great. I’ll be right back.” Wesley ducked into the mens’ room.
“I have sofa?” Jamie looked at him, laughing.
“Shut up! Get me my drink, and I’ll disappear before I embarrass myself any more. Poor guy. I never even saw him.” And he was pretty, dammit.
“You’ve been here a thousand days, and that’s the most I’ve seen you talk to anyone. Stick around, Zeke. He’s new. Maybe he’s nice.” Jamie pulled out the cranberry juice.
“Maybe.” But Jamie had called the man ‘Sir’, and that hadn’t been traditionally good for him…
Jamie mixed his drink and sat it on the bar. “Your choice. If you’re going, you better go quick.”
“Yeah…” He sighed softly, caught between what he wanted to do and what he ought to do.
“Here he comes,” Jamie whispered. “Let me take that shirt, Sir. I’ll have it cleaned and returned to your room.”
“Hm. Good luck with it. Thank you.” Wesley handed the shirt to Jamie. He had a gray and blue flannel on now that looked warm and nice with his blue jeans. “Could you pour me a coffee? Room for cream, please.”
“Of course, Sir. Sugar?”
“You’re daring—having caffeine after noon.”
“No sugar, thank you.” Those blue eyes shifted to look at him. “Not today, I’m not. I’ve been up forever, and it was a—well, it was a stressful day. I’m not worried about being able to sleep.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Long flight?” That sucked. Tired, stressed, and he’d ruined the man’s shirt.
Wesley shrugged and accepted a mug of coffee from Jamie. “Longer than I like. But I’m here now. I’m sure I’ll be fine by tomorrow. Is that a Cape Cod? I’m a gin drinker myself.”
“It is. I’ve never tried gin. I love the tang of cranberry, though.” Was he flirting? He might be flirting.
“I love to mix juices at breakfast. Like, orange and cranberry, or apple and grape.” Wesley chuckled. “Which doesn’t involve gin, but you know what I mean.” It was hard to tell if Wesley was just being friendly or flirting back.
“I do. I have orange juice in the morning, but never with cranberry…” He might try it. Maybe.
“Try it and let me know what you think. Half and half, or slightly more cran than orange. I bet you love it.” Wesley sipped his coffee and the sigh after was so satisfied. “Oh, good coffee, Jamie.”
“Thank you, Sir.” Jamie smiled as he cleaned the bar, pleased by the simple compliment.
He almost—almost—growled. That was his compliment, dammit.
Okay.
That was his cue.
“I’m going to go. Y’all have a great night.”
“Oh.” Wesley lowered his coffee mug. “All right. I’m sorry if I’ve kept you from something. I’d forgotten you were on your way out the door when we—ran into each other.” Wesley smiled and gave him a hot little wink.
Dammit.
“I hope to see you again. I have a walk to take.” He smiled. He had to.
Wesley was so damn cute.
“Enjoy your walk.” Wesley turned back to the bar and picked up his coffee again. “I enjoyed meeting you, even if my shirt didn’t.”
“Oh, you are the first interesting man I’ve met in—a while.”
Nine hundred ninety-nine days, to be exact.