Chapter 10 #2
He whipped around, confidence restored, and went to the workbench along the opposite wall of the garage. Jack followed and put the box where he patted the tabletop. True enough, there were painting supplies inside.
Jack could still smell the citrus.
“Okay, so now we can save Roger even more money by using Callum’s stuff to paint the nursery.” He beamed. “If we do this right, no one is paying anything big for this whole boat to nursery to parade float thing.”
“Just manual labor hours. My manual labor hours.”
That amused Benny.
“I've already seen that body of yours. I doubt a little extra manual labor is going to be too much for you.”
“I didn't say I couldn't handle it,” Jack corrected. “I was just pointing out I'm the only one who's actually doing the work part so far.”
Benny shook the box.
“I'm providing the connections, thank you very much.” He pointed to Jack. “You're the hammer and I'm the one handing you the nails. Free, no-money-needed nails. That’s being frugal, and being frugal in this economy? Sexy.”
“Sexy,” Jack deadpanned.
Benny nodded, matter-of-fact.
“Pages-stuck-together sexy.”
Jack was about to run down the origin story behind that comment when something on Benny’s shoulder caught his eye.
Jack, a rabble rouser with the best of them, abandoned any plan of teasing.
His chosen silence was noticed right away.
“What?” The one syllable managed to be the highest pitched one Jack had heard from the man yet.
He held his hands up.
“It’s not that big of a deal, sweet cheeks, but I'm going to need you to not move while I get something off your should—”
What had once been a spider on Benny’s shoulder became a blur of panic, movement, and screaming.
Jack wasn’t afraid of spiders—even if he was fairly sure the thing that had just crawled onto Benny’s shoulder was a rather large wolf spider—but that didn’t mean he was a fan of having one flung on him either.
Then again, maybe his urge to take a step back came from the powerful screech that was filling the garage.
Jack stumbled back and watched in terrified awe as Benny headed a one-man aerobatic show. One second he was in front of Jack, the next he was in the middle of the garage, wide-eyed, loud, and cussing.
Then, he did something Jack had only ever seen in movies.
With wild abandon, Benny De Carlo threw his shirt off.
If he had been at a Mardi Gras parade, he would have been gifted several beaded necklaces in return.
“Is it still on me?” he yelled, dancing a few steps away from where his shirt had fallen. He slapped at his body and spun around to try and see his back. “Can you see it? Jack?”
Jack could see it.
Benny’s back.
Benny’s front, too.
Benny.
So far he’d seen Benny in varied emotional states—flustered, anxious, shy, annoyed—but when it came to the physical stuff, he’d only seen what everyone could see.
Nice, trendy, clean clothes.
Boots that matched the put together look.
Hair styled and neat.
But this?
This was Benny.
He wasn't muscled like a bodybuilder, but he wasn’t a leaf in the wind either. Benny De Carlo was toned. And smooth.
His chest would have been a fun ride for a drop of water, rolling free from his defined shoulders to a waist that Jack was sure would fit within his grasp with ease.
There was a softness to him too, though. Some give here and there, where normal living and existing had made their marks with love.
That, somehow, was both understated and incredibly appealing.
And the way he was twisting and turning was making the view even more…
Intriguing.
“Jack!” Benny exclaimed again, in no way understanding the lack of response was due to Jack appreciating the view instead of inspecting it.
Jack laughed. He managed to hear the slight waver in it.
Benny, still panicked, did not.
“You're good, you’re good,” Jack hurried, trying to recover. “It’s gone.”
“Are you sure? Check my hair! Check my hair!”
Like he was magnetic, Benny flew toward him in a sideways skitter. Jack didn't mean to, but he laughed.
It was an unwanted response.
“Jack, I'm serious,” Benny screeched. “Is it in my hair?”
Jack dove into the sea of dark hair and citrus. Not only did it smell good, but it felt good too. Soft and, as he reported, also spider free.
“It’s gone,” Jack tried.
But then Benny did another move Jack had only seen on a TV screen.
He jumped Jack.
Feet off the floor, levitating in the air, and then smack dab against him.
Compact or not, Jack hadn't expected that.
“What the—?”
He managed to keep a hold on the man just as Benny pointed at his discarded shirt.
“Look!”
A confirmed wolf spider scurried to the other side of the garage.
Benny made a sound of distress that was caught somewhere between fear and exhaustion.
Yet his words were absolutely commanding.
“Get me out of here, Jack!”
Jack might have been an asshole sometimes but he knew when to not argue.
Not when Benny’s arm was a vise grip around his neck. A hold that tightened when he tried to bend down and grab the discarded shirt first.
“Leave it,” Benny yelled. “I have others.”
“Yes, sir.”
The walk into and through the kitchen didn’t show any signs of Benny loosening until the man checked, double checked, and triple checked that the spider hadn’t followed them.
“Not to sound like a broken record, but I think you’re good,” Jack tried again.
Benny didn’t seem convinced, but he did nod.
Jack made sure not to fully detach his arms until Benny’s feet were firm on the ground. Even still, he kept his grip on the man’s waist.
And, would you look at that, he did fit in between Jack’s hands.
“That thing was huge,” Benny said, eyes still facing towards the garage door they’d just flown through. “I mean, I’m not anti-spider but that thing was big enough for Callum to claim on his taxes. He should charge that sucker for rent while he’s at it.”
Benny fanned his face and added a little bounce up and down, anxiety as clear as his bare nipples staring right at Jack.
It was cute.
It was a sure sign that Benny hadn’t really put together their current situation.
“I’m not sure sacrificing your shirt to it is exactly frugal, though,” Jack pointed out. “And I’d hate for you to lose out on being sexy.”
It was like putting a drop of red food dye into a glass of water. Benny’s eyes widened and he threw his arms over his chest so quickly that they slapped his skin.
The reaction went from cute to concerning.
It was one thing to be shy and awkward and embarrassed for a moment. It was another to self-drown in mortification.
Especially over something that wasn’t something.
So, Jack reached out and touched the spot that he believed needed reminding that it was okay to scream and shout and throw clothing sometimes.
Benny’s cheek was warm against the palm of Jack’s hand.
“When I first moved to Arbor Bay, I had no idea what a cicada was. You know, those big-ass bugs that are loud as hell and leave those empty husks lying around everywhere? I had no idea they were a thing until Dixon thought it would be peak comedy to catch one and put it under my covers while I was sleeping.” Jack crinkled his nose at the memory.
“I’m also not anti-cicada, but when I woke up with it on my neck, it forever gave me the fight reaction when I think something crawly is on me.
I almost punched Mrs. Gert last year when a beetle managed to hitch a ride inside the bar and got on me. ”
Benny didn’t blink, face still fully in Jack’s hold.
He did, however, become curious.
“Mrs. Gert. As in Mrs. Gertrude Langley? She’s on the beautification committee, right? The one Cal said tried to make all of Downtown’s mailboxes into farm-animal themed boxes. That’s the Mrs. Gert you almost punched?”
Jack nodded, the movement lightly moving Benny along with it.
“Let’s just say that she came real close to seeing something ugly hurled her way,” he said. “If Santana hadn’t acted as fast as she did, I wouldn’t be standing here to work a deal to save the bar. I would have long since been run out of town.”
Benny didn’t smile.
Jack did. He wanted to push his point home.
“All I’m saying is that you don’t have to always worry so much about what you’re doing. Or at least you don’t have to feel all squirrelly about when something normal—and pretty damn funny, by the way—happens. At least not around—”
Benny moved against Jack so quickly that it took his hand falling from his cheek to realize where Benny’s lips had landed.
The smell of citrus was nothing compared to the taste of Benny De Carlo’s lips.
Mint and summer.
Strong and warm.
They pressed against Jack with such a quickness that it only seemed polite to try and hold on.
Jack grabbed one of the man’s hips in his hand while securing his face again in the other.
All descriptors of what was happening soon went out the window.
Benny De Carlo’s tongue had just entered the experience.
It only seemed on theme for the day to return the favor.