Page 6

Royal

Royal was struggling to make his way back to the bed and breakfast with both arms loaded down with shopping bags. He should’ve driven.

He still had a couple of blocks to go when two men who looked around his age, abandoned the fence they’d been building and rushed over to him.

In New York, that would’ve been the time to drop his shit, toss his wallet into the air and run for his life—he was about to be robbed.

Instead the guys began to take some of the bags off his forearms.

“Let us help you out with those, it looks like you’re struggling, the shortest one offered with bright green eyes and an easy smile.

“I’m good, I got it,” Royal claimed automatically.

“Bullshit, you tripped twice when you crossed the street just now.” One of them laughed loudly, reaching and lifting some of the bags off his forearm, “and you still got a little ways to go to the Pines.”

“I’m Mark, and that’s Ben. You’re Royal, right?”

Royal hid his smirk behind his hand, shaking his head in disbelief. He was in a gosh-damn parallel universe.

“I know what you’re thinking, word sure travels fast.” Mark noted. “My aunt is Mrs. Pearl and Jojo is my baby sister.”

The other—Ben he was told—with the jet-black beard, and wearing a gray and brown bomber hat, relieved him of his garment bag covering his new sherpa-lined trench, and bag with his two pairs of boots.

“Sorry you had to stop your work,” Royal stammered a bit. “T-thanks though. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome, and no worries. We still got plenty daylight to finish the posts for the Christmas trees, Stone won’t be bringing the first batch over for another couple days.”

“Stone.” Royal perked up at the name, then hurried and lowered his tone, “Yeah, I’ve met him.”

Ben and Mark both looked at him strangely.

“Yep, he’s our boss. He’s a cool guy, laid-back, and not a ball-buster. He owns Stone Wood Carvings. We build all the stuff for the festival. It’ll keep us super busy all the way until New Years. It’s freaking huge, man, this town goes fucking crazy. You’ll see.”

The guys were about his age and spoke with more slang and curse words than the other people he’d met.

Once they got to the bed and breakfast they helped him all the way to his room.

“It was nice meeting you, man,” Mark spoke up. “There’s not much of a nightlife here, not like you’re probably used to, but we do have a pretty cool bar and grill, the Tin Tap about ten miles outside of town in Wickford.”

Royal grinned again—second time in thirty minutes—surprised but appreciative of the invite.

“Sure, thanks guys. I might check it out soon.”

“Cool,” they said and gave him a dap with a one-armed hug.

Royal closed his door and the first thing that crossed his mind was he whether Stone frequented the Tin Tap as well.

Stone

Stone was in the back of Rose’s bookstore, hammering nails into the wooden shelves, his hands steady despite the gnawing sense of unease stirring in his gut as thoughts continued to drift back to him .

The scent of sawdust and old paperback books filling the small store used to provide him with comfort many years ago, but now he struggled to enjoy it. The scent of Royal’s fine linens, expensive cologne—smelling like a fusion of luxury soap and citrus—still lingered in his senses.

Royal had just shown up yesterday, all slick duds and fancy boots, already had the town abuzz. People seemed to like his lost, unassuming, guarded nature. Those were the kind of strangers his town folks rallied around to comfort and make feel welcome.

He hated to admit he found Royal’s meekness very attractive. He was so beautiful and carried himself as if he had no clue that he was.

Something else that’d put Stone on red alert was when he’d guided Royal to Jessie’s place. He wanted to blame it on the town’s unwritten motto, to never leave a stranger to find his way alone. But the way Royal had stared up at him through those long lashes, the way his sad eyes lingered a little too long, had stirred feelings below his belt—sensations he hadn’t felt in over eight years.

The gentle chime of the door sounded over his head, indicating someone had entered the store. Stone didn’t look up, assuming it was one of the teenagers rushing in to see if Rose had gotten more graphic novels in stock.

But it wasn’t.

After a few seconds Stone heard the slow hesitant steps before Royal’s gentle voice floated towards him.

“Evening.”

“Oh hey! Welcome! I can’t believe you came,” Rose greeted cheerfully as if the damn president had popped into her place.

“You asked me if I liked to read, and I thought about it, I haven’t read anything but finance reports for the last two decades, so I really don’t know.”

“No worries. I’m certain I can help you find something,” Rose offered kindly. “What genre do you think you would like?”

There was a long pause, and Stone could feel his pulse quicken.

“Damn, I’m not sure.”

Royal’s New York accent was so fucking sexy. He spoke with all crisp consonants and relaxed sultry vowels. It had just the right hint of grit, mixed with an incomparable amount of intellect.

Stone’s hammer was heavy in his hand. He paused with it in midair as he closed his eyes and listened.

“Offhand, I’d think fiction—mystery, or historical.” Royal was quiet a long time before he murmured. “Um, maybe romance, too. Do you have any of those?”

Stone’s breath caught, and his dick seemed to like the way Royal all but whispered, “romance” .

“I sure do have that,” Rose said. “Come on back.”

Shit, shit, shit.

When Royal came into view, Stone almost swallowed his tongue. Gone was the designer coat and tailored slacks and in their place was more practical, normal wear.

His jacket was black suede with ivory, sherpa-lined fleece that he wore unzipped, showing his fitted light gray sweater, and midnight-colored scarf. Stone’s glare trailed down Royal’s denims that hugged his thighs to perfection, as if Wranglers had been specifically made for him, to his insulated winter hiking boots still stiff from newness.

Royal had yet to see Stone on his knees gawking, surrounded by planks as he followed Rose, his shoulders hunched, and with a restrained expression of uncertainty.

His heart was pounding. He gripped the hickory wood handle of his hammer until his knuckles turned white.

“This is all mystery on these shelves, and right behind you are thrillers, I got a few shelves of those—they’re trendier with the younger folks. And over there are classics and historicals.” She walked Royal further down the aisle and spread her arms wide, “And this entire area is the romance section. As you can see, that’s the most popular.”

Royal blushed a pretty light pink.

She chuckled and gave him an encouraging pat on his shoulder.

“I’ll let you scope out a few titles, read the back flaps, and you just holler if you have any questions, or need a good rec, okay?”

“Thank you,” Royal whispered.

Stone’s cock gave a slight twitch, as if telling him ‘hey, I still exist down here.’

Royal moved down the last aisle and when he got to the end he glanced up and started when he saw him.

Royal’s lips parted, but no words came out, and for too long, they stared at each other across the narrow space.

“Hey, city boy,” Stone muttered, killing the weird silence.

Royal blinked those modelesque lashes before his mouth twisted into something that was almost a smile.

“Hi.”

Stone was about to go back to hammering when Royal took a few shy steps forward.

“Thanks for earlier.” Royal thumbed over his shoulder. “Helping me to the um…for the clothes.”

“Sure,” he murmured, unable to look up, “it was no problem. Looks like Jessie got you all situated.”

Stone knew his gaze was lingering too long on Royal’s thighs, but he couldn’t turn away.

The silence began again and stretched on, but this time it wasn’t so uncomfortable. At least not for him.

“I saw the counter in the Jessie’s clothes’ store had Stone Wood etched in the side.” Royal began, his voice low and reverent. “It was nice…very nice.”

That time he mustered the courage to meet Royal’s pretty brown eyes. “Thanks.”

“I’d love to see more of your work,” Royal’s melodic voice lowered to a sexy whisper. “I mean, if you know…if you wanna show me.”

Stone got off his knees and rose to his full height, realizing how close Royal had gravitated towards him.

“Sure,” he grumbled. “I don’t mind.”

“Having any luck finding something of interest, Royal?” Rose popped up, dousing cold water on the hot tension building between them.

“Uh, I, I think so,” Royal answered…but he didn’t have any books in his hands.

Stone swallowed the hard lump that’d formed in his throat. The awareness of neglected feelings in his cock grew into an undeniable ache.

He wondered for the first time in a long time if it was possible for him to want again.