Page 19 of To Save Him

 

 

 

Chapter Seven

 

BRANDON GOT A call on Monday from one of our local home improvement/ hardware stores for an interview.  “I hate to even ask, Kimberly, but would you mind giving me a ride there?  It’s at nine tomorrow morning.”

Yes, hecouldwalk, but he would have to not only walk the several miles to town; then he would have to walkthroughtown to the other end where the store was.  On foot walking, he could make it in a couple of hours, but if the weather was warm, he might not be as fresh as an interview would require.  He’d do better if he was relaxed and cool.

“Not at all.”  I was getting ready to head into my office.  When I’d actually made it in there over the past week, I’d been productive as hell, what with all the sublimation going on.  Any and every impulse I wanted to act on where Brandon was concerned got funneled into my character’s desires.  I’d never written pure erotica before with a thin storyline and lots and lots of sex, but this story was pushing the limits.

The problem was getting my ass into my office.  I’d been breaking my routine a lot, not following my list faithfully (although I’d been trying), and that was because of Brandon.  I wasn’t going to blame him for it (after all¸ I was a big girl), but he was most certainly the reason why I wasn’t sticking to my normal routine.

And I didn’t mind being naughty that way.  In fact, I felt freer—younger, even—than I had in years.

I took another two steps toward my office before turning on my heel.  Brandon was rinsing off his plate before setting it in the dishwasher when I got back to the kitchen doorway.  “Do you have interview clothes?  Something to wear for the interview?”  I asked because I knew that all he owned had been shoved in that brown and black backpack he’d carried with him—and I hadn’t seen him wear anything entirely interview-worthy.

He shrugged.  “Nothing special.”

I thought of my Gabriel.  His closet and dresser drawers were full of clothing, some of it nice and definitely good enough for a job interview, but—like his father—my son had been quite tall, a good several inches over Brandon.  At least, that was how I remembered him.  I thought Brandon might be able to wear Gabriel’s shirts, but the thought made me sad.  Even a little stressed.  I didn’t think I could handle seeing a man I continually lusted over wearing my son’s clothing.  I just couldn’t do it.

But that didn’t mean I couldn’t help.

“You want the job?”

“Yeah.  Sounds like something I might like doing.”

“Then let’s get you some clothes.”

“What do you mean?”  He closed the door to the dishwasher and took a couple steps toward me.

“I mean I want to help you.  Let me buy you some clothes for the interview.  And then you can pay me back if you want after you get your first paycheck.”

His expression seemed wistful and his voice was soft when he said, “You’d do that for me?”

Oh, God, I wanted to hug this young man, pull him close, help him believe in humanity.  I could hear the years of disappointment and sadness in his voice, feel how he’d been let down again and again…and yet he still seemed to hold on to hope.  I had no idea how he did that, but I wanted to erase the sorrow, the likely anger and frustration, show him love and kindness by pulling him into a consuming hug.  I didn’t trust myself to do that, though.  One hand on this man, and I didn’t know what I’d do…but I knew the volcano inside wouldn’t stop with offering him comfort.  And I couldn’t let myself do that to him.

I could barely suck in a breath when I said, “Of course, I would.  Iwantto.”

So, late in the morning—after I’d forced myself to get some writing done—we headed to town.  I didn’t tell Brandon, but I also planned to take him to my favorite restaurant for lunch when we were done.  There was a shopping center along the highway with a men’s clothing store.  I’d been there a couple of times shopping for my sons, but I usually went to bigger stores that offered clothing for both genders.  Right now, though, I was thinkingsuit.

As soon as we walked in the place, we were approached by a sharply dressed man with immaculate facial hair and well-manicured nails.  His hair was spiked and, at first, it seemed to clash with the rest of his look, but after talking with him, I realized it worked.  The guy seemed to be shooting forhipandurbanand, in spite of living in a town tucked in the mountains of Colorado, it worked.  Convincingly, even.

Unfortunately, I thought he made Brandon nervous, because the man barraged us with questions.  I hoped it didn’t make things worse, but I started answering his queries on Brandon’s behalf.  “He has an interview tomorrow and we need something nice but understated.”

In less than ten minutes after taking Brandon’s measurements, the man had him in the dressing room with no fewer than three suits.  I hoped Brandon didn’t look at the price tags, because I’d already decided I was going to buy one for him without asking for repayment.  I didn’t want himnotgetting one just because he felt like he couldn’t afford it.

Brandon emerged from the dressing room looking unsure, but I could have died. Died.  The suit and shoes were black, as was the button-down shirt underneath, but he wore a red tie.  Oh.  My.  God.  If he could have pulled off a sexy smirk at that moment, I would have shoved his ass in the dressing room and ravished him.  I never would have pictured this young man in a suit until that moment, and I hadn’t known before we’d arrived what seeing him in one would do to me.  I swallowed hard and tried to slow my heartbeat to no avail.

“I don’t know, Kimberly.  I don’t think this is what I should wear to interview for a job where I’m gonna be hauling around bags of garden soil and dollies with washing machines.  I think I’d look overdressed in a suit.”

Well, he had me there…but I wouldn’t be denied.  He just didn’t know it yet, and I wasn’t going to give it away.  “I guess you’re right.”

The salesman came back at that moment.  “Oh, my.  You clean up well.”  The glint in his eyes made me realize he was gay and probably thinking the same damn things I was, and I wanted to grab him and tell himpaws off.  That boy’smine!  But he wasnotmine, and I had to stop thinking that way.

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