Page 61 of A Box of Wishes
Ben felt his cheeks heat. He drank his tea, his fingers tangling with Ryan’s on top of the table. He’d have to go soon, leave Ryan to his duties as party host, but until the teapot ran dry, he could enjoy his company. When he set his empty cup down Ryan met his eyes.
“See you tomorrow morning?”
Ben nodded. “Nice and early.” He thought of the folder Tarbert had handed him before he left. “I have a few busy days coming up.”
“I’ll be here,” Ryan said. “Always am. And there’ll be roast chicken for our favourite tabby.”
Ben was settling Morris’s carrier into the passenger seat when it occurred to him that there had been a strange note in Ryan’s voice along with an uncharacteristic hesitation. As if he’d wanted to share something but hadn’t.
“You need to watch over him, Morris, my boy,” Ben said as he pulled the seatbelt through the cat carrier’s handle. “Ryan works too hard. You must make him sit down every once in a while, or he’ll slip through our fingers like smoke.”
Ben started the car and pulled out of the courtyard, leaving the brightly lit coffee house and the boisterous birthday party behind. To his right, the trees lining the hill were still swathed in their strings of golden light. The decorations would come down after Valentine’s Day. It was a great reminder if he needed it. Ryan had done so much for him in the two months since they’d met. Ben wanted to do something for him for a change. He wanted to see Ryan back in his home. Wanted to share a romantic meal with him. Take him to bed and make love to him.
If he wanted to make any of this happen, he had to get his skates on, and stop using his hours as an excuse.
“If it wasn’t for Ryan, I’d have new furniture already,” he grumbled. “Spending the evening in the coffeehouse is just more fun.” Talking to Ryan, watching him bake, and playing with Morris, was better evening entertainment than trawling through late opening furniture stores and fighting his way through the nose-to-tail traffic on the way home.
Still, a plan was a plan, and Ryan was worth the effort.
Imagining Ryan at his new dining table, not far away from the couch, didn’t hurt either.
Ben was done with moving at a snail’s pace. In the beginning, thoughts of Keith and his cheating ways had intruded at odd times and he’d been reluctant to take things further. Now—and especially after the night they’d spent together after the attack—he no longer denied that he wanted Ryan.
Ryan was the sweetest man he’d ever met. He cared for everyone who stepped through his door and didn’t say a bad word about anyone. Ben had waited for that, for the moment when Ryan’s temper would lash out. At him, a customer, or a supplier.
The moment had never come.
Ryan wasn’t just polite, he was genuinely kind.
The day that revelation had made it through his thick skull was the day he started to fall in love with Ryan O’Shaughnessy.
All he needed was a convenient moment to tell Ryan.
Backlash
Ben spent the next few days talking to debt recovery agencies before adding all the tiny bits of information he’d collected to the police database. He had a knack for seeing patterns and making connections, but to be able to do that, he first needed data. And collecting that data needed time. Each evening, he stumbled into the coffeehouse, tired and hoarse. And his day turned brighter as soon as he saw Ryan smile. He still hadn’t told Ryan how he felt, he’d had no time to buy furniture, and they hadn’t spent more than an hour together each day. But Ben was happier than he’d been in months.
On Thursday morning the clouds hung low and dripped rain. Ben ignored the weather and took pleasure in Ryan’s face lighting up as he saw him.
Ryan held up the teapot and waved in the direction of the booth. “Morning. Go sit down. I’m about to get the tea on.”
Ben let Morris out of the carrier. The cat walked ahead of him and sat beside the booth, waiting for his morning treat. Stopping off at the coffeehouse had become a fixture of Ben’s day. When he’d previously begrudged five minutes, he now happily traded half an hour’s sleep for the chance to see Ryan.
Ryan joined him at the table. “Here.” He set the teapot and cups down and leaned to peck Ben on the cheek. “Good morning.”
Ben didn’t let him straighten up. Not until he’d converted the peck into a proper mesh of lips and tongue that dragged a soft moan from Ryan’s throat. Then he drew back. “Now it is a good morning.” He smiled. “And yes, that was sappy.”
“And in public.”
“Nobody here yet.”
The bell over the door called him a liar. Ryan hurried back to the bar, while Ben set down the dish of chicken pieces for Morris. The cat pounced on his treat, purring as he ate. Ben watched both the cat and the man behind the bar while the tea brewed.
He had to stop himself every morning and evening from asking Ryan out again, and he wondered—often at odd times in the day—whether he was being sensible or just a coward. Once he’d gotten over his first embarrassment, it had felt right to have Ryan in his home. Could they have that again, with a little less drama now Ryan’s bruises had healed?
Ben poured tea, added a little milk and inhaled the steam before he took his first sip.
“Kingdoms will fall before you give up on that ritual.”
