Page 1 of Heart of Glass

Chapter one

The alluring scent ofbrewed coffee and freshly baked cinnamon buns wafted through the small corner café. Coffeehouses of all sizes and varying degrees of popularity littered the art district in Shadow Hills, but Brew Ha Ha offered a very inspirational environment. The free wireless internet, the dim, intimate lighting, and the secluded corners with large, squashy chairs provided the perfect writer’s paradise.

Every morning for nearly two years, Lachlan MacAuley had packed his laptop, his notebooks, and his hopes and dreams into a battered messenger bag. Then he’d walk the three blocks to Brew Ha Ha, order a non-fat, no foam salted caramel macchiato, and commandeer his favorite armchair in the back of the café. And every morning for the past six months, he’d sat in that chair and stared at the blinking curser on his screen while crickets chirped inside his head.

That first year had been phenomenal, like walking on a cloud. His debut novel,Public Affair, had soared to the top of the bestseller charts, and from there, Lachlan had been unstoppable. If he wasn’t writing, he was thinking about writing. His entire life, he’d dreamed of being a published author, and living the dream proved to be better than anything he could have imagined.

Then everything changed.

The night had started like any other. Lachlan had retreated into his own mind, frantically pounding away at the keyboard and feeling almost giddy as his latest story unfolded right before his eyes. The café had been deserted by the time he’d come up for air, and the baristas had already started their nightly cleanup.

After packing away his portable office and paying the tab for the endless amounts of coffee he’d consumed during his marathon writing session, he’d set out for home, eager to reach his apartment so he could return to his fantasyland. Contemplating his hero’s current predicament and spinning out scenarios of how Sargent Dwayne Moore could swoop in and save the day, Lachlan hadn’t even seen the headlights or heard the blare of the horn from the car that hit him.

The doctors had told him he’d been lucky to survive. The nurses who’d tended to him during his two-month hospital stay had commented more than once about his miraculous recovery. His physical therapist had told him not to be surprised if he always needed a cane to walk, but in the same breath, he’d applauded how quickly Lachlan had pulled himself up out of his wheelchair.

Since then, however, he hadn’t been able to write anything, and the longer the words refused to flow, the deeper he sank into depression. Maybe he’d lost the spark. He’d certainly lost the passion of being an author. Unfortunately, he didn’t know how to be anything else.

He had to figure out something soon, though, because writer’s block didn’t pay the rent. The last quarter’s royalties would carry him for a little while, but the money wouldn’t last forever. So, he’d given himself a personal deadline—three weeks, right up to Christmas day—and if he still wasn’t writing by then, he’d start looking for a new job.

“More coffee?”

Dragging himself out of his pity party, Lachlan looked up at the hottie in the apron and grinned. “I could go for another macchiato.”

“You got it.” The barista winked before taking Lachlan’s cup and hustling back behind the counter.

“Hello, inspiration,” Lachlan mumbled to himself as he watched the sexy blond walk away. The baggy denim hid what was most likely a fantastic ass, but the too-tight T-shirt more than made up for it. The gray cotton encased his torso, molding to him like a second skin that hugged every dip, curve, and lean muscle.

A twinge in his left hip reminded Lachlan why he could look, but he’d never get any farther. Men as beautiful as that didn’tgo for broken, socially awkward nerds who had more imaginary friends than real ones.

“Here ya are, handsome.” The server returned with an extra-large mug of steamy, creamy goodness. “You’ve been here for a couple of hours, and I noticed you haven’t eaten anything. I asked around, and one of the girls said you like the banana bread.” He flashed a genuine smile as he placed the coffee and bread down on the side table. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

“Thank you.” A wave of shyness overwhelmed Lachlan, and he had a hard time not ducking his head and averting his eyes. No one paid attention to him anymore, not unless they were gawking at his limp, but this guy had watched him long enough to know he hadn’t eaten. He should probably be creeped out by the stalkerish behavior, but strangely, he found it kind of sweet. “Are you new here? I haven’t seen you around before.”

“I’ve worked here for a couple of months, but I just switched to second shift yesterday.” He wiped his right hand on the towel slung over his shoulder and offered it to Lachlan. “I’m Xeno.”

“Now that needs to go in a book.” Lachlan took Xeno’s hand and squeezed, but he let go quickly, placing his hand back in his lap to hide its shaking.

“You’re an author?” Xeno’s eyes lit up, and he looked like he might wet himself with excitement. “Can I ask what you write? Or is that rude?”

A quiet chuckle, the first real one he’d uttered in months, rolled through Lachlan’s chest and up through his lips. “I don’t mind. I’m Lachlan, by the way.” While he didn’t advertise what he wrote, he’d never been ashamed of it, either. “I write gay erotic romance.” Then he sat back and waited for Xeno’s reaction.

“Really? I mean, you’re published and everything?”

“And everything,” Lachlan confirmed around more laughter. “So I guess this means you’re not going to kick me out on my ass.”

“Are you kidding? That is so cool.” His bright green eyes practically glowed, and he danced from foot to foot, clearly wanting to interrogate Lachlan further. “Hey, I have a break in ten minutes. Would you mind some company?”

“Not at all. I’ll be right here.” His heart pounded too fast, and the tension in his muscles made his hip hurt like the ten shades of hell. To pass up an opportunity like this, even if the guy was only interested in him for his books, would be stupid, though. Lachlan had been accused of a lot of things, but never of stupidity.

“Awesome.” Xeno started to leave, but he paused and glanced back over his shoulder. “Oh, um, out of curiosity. What’s your last name?”

“MacAuley. Lachlan MacAuley.”

“Okay, don’t freak out. Don’t be lame.” Gripping the porcelain edges of the small sink in the employee bathroom, Xeno stared into the mirror and tried not to giggle like a damn schoolgirl. “Holy fuck, it’s really him.” He squeezed his eyes closed and shook his head. “Stop it. Just be cool.”

Though he’d read thousands of gay romance novels over the years, something aboutPublic Affairhad spoken to him. It wasn’t just that he connected with the characters. Hebecamethe characters. Every heartbreak, disappointment, victory, and celebration the men in that book experienced, Xeno lived it right along with them.

After that, he’d snatched up every Lachlan MacAuley title he could get his hands on. He stalked Lachlan’s website, always checking to see what the man had coming up next and what he’d be working on in the months to come. Every new release felt like Christmas morning, and Xeno devoured every chapter, every scene, and every sentence with inappropriate enthusiasm.

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