A Younger Man (14 page)

His arms raised in victory, Noah shouted his pleasure once more. “Excellent. Fucking A, Zane.” Noah laughed, filled to the brim with bubbling, good feelings. “You have no idea how it feels to know you’ve just hired someone reliable, who is going to work hard on every job. I am suddenly wide awake.” Noah’s mind, his body—everything—was racing much too fast, and he knew it would be hours before his adrenaline would crash enough to let him rest. “How about we have breakfast at the diner to celebrate? My treat. What do you say?”

“Okay.” Zane stood, giving Noah a quick grin. “But then I have to go drop dead in my bed for about seven hours before I have to go pick up Duncan and Hailey from school.” Zane had shared that a woman who sometimes kept watch over his siblings when he had to work—a Mrs. Mangioni—had kindly agreed to let the kids spend these last three nights with her.

“Sounds good.” His heart skittering ridiculously, Noah lifted his hand to Zane. “I’ll even give you a call to make sure you wake up. Let’s go.”

Zane took Noah’s hand, and Noah felt the fleeting brush of their skin through every nerve in his body. Still so fucking high from his job right now, though, Noah didn’t let his response to this young man freak him out. He’d just completed a tough as hell renovation, gotten a long-term contract out of it, and had acquired one insanely great employee too, all without losing his mind over his attraction to Zane. Feeling attraction and acting on those feelings were two completely different things. This job had taught Noah that. He could work with Zane and keep everything professional and under control.

As for the sense of loss that swept through Noah when Zane hit the ground and severed their brief handhold … well, Noah would keep the touching between them to a minimum. When that couldn’t be avoided, he would ignore the insanely perfect sensation that rolled through him whenever their skin had reason to come into contact.

* * * *

As both men entered the bustling diner fifteen minutes later, Zane looked over his shoulder to Noah, laughing at a recounting of one of their hairier moments during the salon renovation. “You should have seen yourself,” warmth infused Zane’s voice, heck, his entire being, “whoa, whoa, whoa!” Zane physically mimicked Noah’s windmill arms and fall from grace off the sink station at the salon. “Once I realized you weren’t going to break your neck it was one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen.”

“I thought I completely nailed the landing.” Noah straightened his legs, put his hands on his hips, and struck an Olympic athlete pose. “I think the U.S. judge would’ve given me a ten for sure.”

Zane opened his mouth to disagree, but just then a petite blonde woman in a grocery store cashier uniform barreled across the diner and shoved Noah into the cash register station, knocking boxes of gum and candy bars to the floor.

“You fire Rick without any reason and then you just go about your business, laughing and whooping it up like you didn’t just ruin a man’s life? Got your new employee here already,” she sneered at Zane but then got right back in Noah’s face, “making up stories and laughing about good times like you’ve been best friends forever.” The woman slapped Noah right then; the sound of her hand cracking across his cheek filled the room. Everyone around them gasped. “You should be ashamed of yourself. What will this boy do that Rick wouldn’t? Does he let you pay him in blowjobs?” Noah blanched whiter and whiter with each word this woman shrieked, but he didn’t so much as twitch a muscle. “Or maybe for every full day of work he lets you fuck him up the ass and—”

Right then the loud
crack
of metal banging together ricocheted through the diner, and everyone’s attention swung in the other direction, like a grandstand full of people watching a tennis match. Ruthie Costa, the diner’s owner, rushed across the room, a frying pan and pot in hand. “There will be none of that kind of talk in my diner, little missy.” With vibrating force, the stout woman pointed her frying pan toward the door. “You get out of here and get yourself straight before you set foot in this place again.”

The blonde woman—Zane guessed she was this Rick guy’s wife or girlfriend or sister or something—snorted, her focus still trained on a pale Noah. “Guess that means you and your little boyfriend have to go too. You sure as hell aren’t ever gonna be
straight
again.”

Noah appeared as if someone had shot him. “Lois, I-I—”

“Don’t even try,” she uttered in a low tone. “I thought you were my friend. But I should have known when you fucked Janice over to be with a man that you’d screw Rick too.”

“I-I-I gave Rick multiple chances,” Noah stated, finally finding his voice. “He failed every time. I told you I couldn’t keep propping him up. You said you understood.”

“That was when I thought you cared about me more than you cared about having a pretty boy to stare at while you work.” Looking Noah up and down, she added, “Cocksucker,” and lifted her hand to swing at Noah once more.

No way.
Moving fast, Zane intercepted the woman’s wrist. He burned inside, and he refused to let her slap Noah again.

“Go!” Ruthie waved her frying pan at Lois again. “Now.”

The blonde wrested her arm from Zane’s hold, glared at Ruthie, and stormed out of the diner. The diner remained stock-still for a handful of heartbeats, the air thick with silence, almost as if every single person was afraid to speak or move.

Abruptly, Noah dropped to his knees and started gathering gum and candy. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. He dumped chocolate bars back into boxes and replaced them on narrow shelves with frantic, jerky movements; the sight of him so uncomfortable and disoriented cut Zane up inside. “I’ll pay for anything that was damaged.”

Within seconds Ruthie put her hand under Noah’s arm and brought the much bigger man to his feet. “Don’t you go apologizing to me, honey. There ain’t no need. Y’all go get yourself a booth. We’ll clean this up.”

Noah still seemed to be in a partial stupor, so Zane said, “Thank you,” for him and walked to an open booth, hoping Noah would follow. Noah did. Many minutes passed, wherein Noah did nothing more than look at his menu long enough to surely memorize it, then quietly order an orange juice and egg plate special when the waitress arrived. He then stared at the colorful paper placemat in front of him as if he would soon be quizzed on the lovely North Carolina scene. Zane watched as every hard line seemed to dig itself deeper into Noah’s rough face, and his gut twisted with the need to slip to the other side of the booth and pull this strong yet achingly vulnerable man into his arms.

Instead, Zane clasped his hands under the table, tightly, in order to keep from touching Noah. He had to keep this new, potentially damaging part of his feelings for this man under control. Unable to rein his empathy in, though, he softly asked, “Are you all right?”

Noah jerked his focus up from the table, and rich dark chocolate saturated his stare. “I hate feeling like people are staring at me.” Too much rust coated each word uttered. “And like I can never get away from the sideshow curious looks.”

On automatic, Zane almost said,
“Nobody is looking at you,”
but stopped himself. He didn’t want to placate the man with a lie. Taking a moment, he discreetly checked out the other diners, and in doing so clashed stares with more than one person who tore their gazes away the moment they met Zane’s. “Some are watching,” he finally admitted. “But more than half are back to their own business, not looking at us at all.”

What little color had returned to Noah’s face fled in a heartbeat. “Fuck.” The curse came out with the fierce precision of an arrow. “
Us
is right. I’m sorry I dragged you into this, Zane.” With a glance around the diner, Noah lowered his voice. “If you want to rethink being here—working with me—I understand.”

Their waitress came to drop off their juices right then, so Zane had to hold his tongue until she walked away. A fierce pain grabbed his chest. “Do you want me to rethink working for you? Did you change your mind?” His voice squeaked just a bit.

Noah bit off another curse, but he looked Zane in the eyes as he answered. “I’ll admit I’m damned self-conscious being with you, only because I know a lot of people are going to think what Lois just did.” Ruddiness tinted his cheeks. “They are going to think I hired you as some kind of young, pretty boy-toy to stare at and flirt with. That’s my problem, though,” he amended, “not yours. You shouldn’t have to worry about what people might say about you because of me.”

In this moment Zane’s fears and concerns about his Aunt Patty were edged out by this man’s painful discomfort. “Twenty minutes ago I was happy because I had a second job, and you were happy because you said you had someone you could rely on. Has that changed?”

“No,” Noah answered whip-fast. “I’m damned happy to have you on board.”

“And I’m damned happy to have a second job.” To Zane’s way of thinking, bringing in a second wage had to be more important to a judge than the fact that Zane’s employer was gay. Or that Zane had even begun to have strong feelings for the man. It had to. His Aunt Patty couldn’t stir trouble. Particularly since Noah was such a fine person and upstanding member of this community. “The other stuff … people looking, maybe whispering too,” sitting with Noah right now, thinking over the last few days with him, Zane couldn’t imagine never being near him again just because of gossip, “that’s their bullshit, not yours. Or even mine.”

Noah’s shoulders, his whole body, visibly loosened, and he trained a narrow stare on Zane. “You sure you’re only twenty-four, Halliday?”

Zane beamed. “I’ll be twenty-five very soon.”

“Ahh, almost twenty-five.” Returning light finally—
finally
—brightened Noah’s gaze and made it twinkle. “That must be why you’re so wise.”

Zane could feel his blush. He grabbed his glass, and into the rim, said, “Shut up and drink your juice.”

“Yes, sir, Oh-Wise-One.” Laughter busted from deep in Noah’s gut before he took his first sip.

Zane wondered if Noah had noticed that more people looked at him when he laughed and smiled than when he’d been so self-conscious during the aftermath of Lois’s verbal attack.
He probably doesn’t realize how handsome he is when he smiles and laughs.

The observation, and how very inappropriate it was, hit Zane, seized through him, and took his thoughts briefly back to Patty. But right now he couldn’t hold onto those concerns and nerves. Noah had been humiliated and sad, but now he was upbeat again, and Zane had played a part in making him feel better. The knowledge that he could affect Noah’s spirits in a positive way rushed warmth through Zane in a way he couldn’t deny.

I like him. I can’t help that I do.
Zane could spend time with Noah, admire him, and even let himself fantasize about the handsome man all he wanted. As long as he never acted on anything then Patty had no ammunition in her vendetta to take Duncan and Hailey away from him.

Making eye contact with Noah, feeling his heart skip a beat, Zane let go of any fear and attacked his meal.

* * * *

With a plucked blade of grass in his hand, Noah walked with careful steps to the open passenger side door of his truck. Zane lay across the seat, fast asleep, his sneakered feet sticking out through the open driver’s side door on the other side. Darker smudges under his eyes conveyed this newer, heavier work schedule, and Noah wished there was something he could do to take that exhaustion away. The young man had pride, though, and knowing that kept Noah from offering him a loan or even just some more financial assistance. Still … Christ, how Noah wanted to do just that.

Even tired, he’s so fucking beautiful.
Noah’s fingers tingled with his need to touch, as if just by putting his hands on the man, and letting himself feel everything so very alive inside him—a new spark that existed because of Zane—he could draw the tiredness out of Zane.
But you can’t; so stop wanting it already.

A few days ago, when Noah had asked Zane about the darkness under his eyes, Zane had reluctantly admitted he could use a few more hours of sleep every night. Noah couldn’t give Zane more hours in the evening, and so instead had suggested Zane take a nap during his lunch hour, and that Noah would wake him up with enough time to eat something on the drive back to the job. It was a damn paltry offering, but was the best Noah could do.

Hating that he had to do it, Noah brushed the blade of grass against Zane’s nose and softly said, “Time to get up. You need to eat something before we get back to work.”

His nose twitching, Zane brushed at the area, and with a grumble rolled onto his side. “A few more minutes.” He snuggled his hands under his cheek. “I don’t need to eat.”

“You do, hon—”
Crap.
Noah snapped his lips tightly together. The more time he spent with this man, the harder it became to keep endearments in check. These terms had been completely natural in Noah’s relationship with Janice, and in his head they were becoming more and more so with Zane every day they spent working together.

Dropping the stalk of grass, Noah cleared his throat and tried again. “You can’t go all day on just breakfast. You’ll pass out, and it’ll take a lot longer to recover from that than just taking five minutes to eat a sandwich.” He nudged Zane’s shoulder, but was careful to keep the contact arbitrary and to a minimum. “Come on.”

Zane pushed himself to sit upright, his eyes still mostly closed. Mumbling, “Sorry,” he scrubbed his face and then pushed his hands through his hair. “I’ll eat fast. You don’t have to worry about being late.”

After grabbing Zane’s food from the cooler, Noah handed him the bagged lunch. “I’m more worried about how tired you are.” Noah’s comment carried as he walked around to the driver’s side and climbed in. “Are you sure everything else is okay?”

Fear and self-consciousness still gripped Noah. Lois’s taunts at the diner nearly two weeks ago—and how so many people had overheard them—still sat like a giant ball of undigested food in his throat, going rancid, and eating at him. With Zane at his side for work so much since that morning, Noah couldn’t help wondering if something beyond a lack of hours to sleep was stressing Zane. Maybe Zane was facing some blowback for working with Noah; maybe he was concealing it to protect Noah’s feelings. Keeping secrets could exhaust a person. Noah knew that better than anyone.
Shit.