Hearth and Home (5 page)

When he turned around, a flurry of activity took over the workshop. “What?” he asked when Pinebough chuckled.

“You don’t see it, do you?”

“See what?” Bayberry was confused. He reached for his tunic as he waited for Pinebough to explain.

“How can I put this decorously?” Pinebough shook his head, tapping one finger against his lower lip. Then he grinned. “You’re fucking hot! Watching you strip down and work the glass is freaking hot! So, some of us get… distracted and forget we’re supposed to be working.”

“You mean to tell me everyone stops to watch me?” Bayberry said incredulously.

“Yeah.” Pinebough shrugged. “The only thing hotter is the way you watch Thistle when you think he’s not looking.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bayberry mumbled, looking at the ground as he tied his laces and then reached for his boots.

“Why don’t you just ask him out? For Santa’s sake, you’re with him practically every night now. And you walk him home
every
night. What’s the problem? It’s not as if he’s not interested, you know,” Pinebough said as he slapped Bayberry on the back, nearly sending him tumbling. “He looks at you the same way.”

Bayberry straightened and looked up to the office, where Thistle peered at the computer screen, deep in concentration. “Maybe… maybe I’ll ask him to dinner,” he murmured. Thistle was so beautiful, and he smelled so good and tasted good, and Bayberry loved the gentle sound of his voice. He loved how soft Thistle’s skin was and how kissable his lips were. Bayberry realized where his thoughts had wandered and groaned.

“You’ve got it bad,” Pinebough said softly, his gruff voice devoid of its earlier teasing tone.

“What?” Bayberry said, startled. Had he seriously just lost track of where he was while staring at Thistle? From the smile on Pinebough’s face, he had.

“You’re in love with him, Bayberry,” Pinebough said. “Congratulations. Now, grab a hold of him and don’t ever let go. You’ll regret it if you do.”

Bayberry studied his friend. He could hear the regret in Pinebough’s voice. Was there personal experience behind that statement? Bayberry had never seen Pinebough with anyone. Of course, there had been a time when Pinebough had toured the mortal world, for about two or three centuries. Maybe something had happened to his friend during that time. He would have to get the story from Pinebough later. He reached out and laid a hand on Pinebough’s shoulder. Pinebough nodded and then walked away, an aura of sadness about him.

Resolved to take Pinebough’s words to heart, Bayberry headed to his office. He opened the door and watched Thistle jump in surprise. It made him chuckle and then groan when that delectable flush rose on Thistle’s fair skin. They’d spent the last two weeks working late into the evening and then walking home together. They’d shared some delicious kisses and serious heavy petting at Thistle’s front door.

“You delight in startling me, don’t you?” Thistle grumbled, his purple eyebrows furrowed over dilated eyes. Someone wasn’t as upset as they wanted Bayberry to believe.

“I’m sorry,” Bayberry said with a smile as a feeling of déjà vu hit him. Of course, he tended to startle Thistle a lot and was always apologizing for it.

“No, you’re not,” Thistle grumbled, but then ruined it with a smile.

“No, I’m not,” Bayberry agreed. He took a deep breath, preparing to bite the bullet—so to speak—and ask Thistle to dinner.

“Listen, I wanted to ask you…,” he began, just as Thistle said, “Can I ask you…?”

Bayberry laughed. “You go first.”

“No, please, you go ahead,” Thistle said, blushing anew.

“I insist,” Bayberry said as he took the seat in front of his desk.

“I was… oh, dear, I… this is hard….” Thistle nibbled on his bottom lip. Watching him made Bayberry hard enough to hurt. “Would… would you like to have dinner with me this evening?”

Bayberry laughed. “I was just going to ask you the same thing. I would love to have dinner with you, Thistle.”

“You would?” Thistle’s smile lit up the entire office—hell, the entire workshop. “Wonderful! I didn’t… I wasn’t… I didn’t think you’d be interested.”

“Oh, believe me, Thistle, I am
very
interested in you. Or couldn’t you tell from our kisses?” Bayberry teased just to watch Thistle’s cheeks flush, his eyes dilate, and his breath catch in that adorable and incredibly hot gasp. He wasn’t disappointed.

“Oh… my, you have got to stop saying things like that,” Thistle said breathlessly as he waved his hands in front of his face.

“Why?”

“Because it makes me hard when you talk like that,” Thistle said. From the way his eyes went wide, Bayberry could tell he hadn’t meant to say that… at least not out loud.

“That’s not a deterrent, you know,” Bayberry purred as he rose from his seat and stalked around the desk.

Without pause, he pulled Thistle from his chair and into his arms. Leaning down, he swiped his tongue along Thistle’s lips, causing the little gasp he loved so much, and then slipped his tongue inside, tasting deeply of Thistle. Bayberry turned them and then slid his hands down to Thistle’s ass. Cupping the firm, rounded globes, Bayberry lifted Thistle and set him on the desk before pushing his way between lean thighs to get as close as possible. Thistle whimpered before scooting closer to the edge of the desk and wrapping his legs around Bayberry’s waist. If Bayberry thought he was hard before, it was nothing compared to the state of his cock at that point.

A loud, hard rapping on the door had them jumping apart.

Bayberry looked up. When he saw Pinebough smirking through the window, he glared at his best friend.

Pinebough tsked him with the universal brushing one finger over the top of another and then sauntered away.

Bayberry stepped closer and gathered a slightly trembling Thistle into his arms. He brushed a soothing hand down Thistle’s spine, murmuring soft words meant to calm him. “Well, I think Pinebough just got an eyeful, don’t you?” Bayberry said with a chuckle.

“No, but if he had waited a few more seconds, he might have,” Thistle said.

There were a few moments of silence before Thistle began to chuckle softly. Then he was outright laughing, and Bayberry stared at him in amazement. Thistle was beautiful any other time. When he laughed as he was now—a full-belly, joyous laugh—he was breathtaking.

Bayberry cupped Thistle’s face gently in his hands. He stared into those eyes, and then he laid the gentlest of kisses on Thistle’s lips. “You are so beautiful,” he said softly after he drew back.

“You’re the beautiful one,” Thistle said, trying to look away. Bayberry wouldn’t let him hide, though.

“We’ll just have to agree to disagree on that point,” Bayberry said. “What time do you want to have dinner?”

The rapid change of subject appeared to make Thistle flounder for a moment. “It’s about five now. Perhaps eight o’clock?”

“Perfect. Where shall we meet?” Bayberry said as he stepped back. If he didn’t, he was going to start kissing Thistle again, and then they would never get out of the workshop.

“I, uh, I was thinking we could have dinner at my house,” Thistle said.

“Perfect,” Bayberry said again. He leaned forward, unable to resist, and placed a kiss on the pert tip of Thistle’s nose. “I will see you at your place at eight o’clock. Should I bring anything?”

“Um, wine? A white, if possible.”

“Done. See you at eight, Thistle,” Bayberry said, and then he left the office.

There was a jaunty bounce in Bayberry’s step all the way home. He had a date with Thistle, at Thistle’s house, tonight. Everything was perfect. Thistle was perfect. He loved Thistle.

Bayberry froze in place. He loved Thistle? Did he love Thistle? As he thought about it, Bayberry realized, yes, he did love Thistle. Now all he had to do was get Thistle to love him. Piece of cake… right?

T
HISTLE
MADE
it home after finishing the day’s reports in record time. He glanced around his cottage and did an impulsive flight-of-the-bumblebee-type cleaning job, despite not needing to do so—Thistle only made a mess in the kitchen, generally speaking.

The Alaskan salmon he had purchased would be perfect for dinner. Now he just had to figure out a recipe he could throw together given the time he had available. Everything
had
to be perfect. It just had to be.

An hour later the salmon, seasoned with lemon and rosemary, was baking in the oven nicely. Gingered green beans were simmering on low, and the peaches-and-cream pie he’d baked yesterday would be a perfect finisher. Thistle rushed into his bathroom to get cleaned up. Twenty minutes, tops, and he was out, dressed, and setting a small table on his patio, surrounded by his garden. Thistle smiled. It was a distinctly romantic setting.

He hoped Bayberry got the hint.

Thistle lit the two tapered candles and put the hurricane glasses around them. He straightened the silverware and folded the napkins for the third time. The timer bell went off, and Thistle hurried back into the kitchen to pull everything together. Just as he finished serving up two plates, there was a knock on the door. Thistle glanced at the clock on the wall: eight o’clock. Bayberry was right on time. Thistle smiled. He set the plates on the counter and went to answer the door. The aroma from the foods filled his house, calming him in a way he hadn’t experienced since his grandmother had crossed the Veil.

“You’re punctual,” Thistle said with a smile as he opened the door for Bayberry.

Before the words faded from the air, Bayberry cupped the back of Thistle’s neck and pulled him into a gentle, and very thorough, kiss that made his toes curl. The soft whimper that escaped his lips would have embarrassed Thistle if he could have formulated a coherent thought, but the feel of Bayberry’s lips on his always sent them scattering to the four winds.

The need for air made them step apart, and Thistle felt the loss more keenly than he thought he should. He took a deep, supposedly calming breath and then licked his lips, only to taste Bayberry. He whimpered again and felt his cheeks flush with heat—well,
more
heat—as he ducked his head. He took another deep breath and then attempted to look at Bayberry again. The smile that greeted him was stunning.

“I’ve actually been walking up and down the lane for the last twenty minutes,” Bayberry admitted. The blush that stained his cheeks made Thistle’s belly flip-flop. He knew he was grinning like an idiot, but Bayberry didn’t seem to mind. Bayberry held up a bottle. “I remembered the wine, barely.”

“Eager, then?” Thistle asked, leading the way to the garden.

“Very,” Bayberry said as he wrapped his arms around Thistle’s waist from behind and nuzzled his neck. “Something smells absolutely divine.”

“Thank you. I hope you enjoy—”

“The food smells good too,” Bayberry said.

Thistle could feel Bayberry’s smile against his neck. It made him chuckle. “Just soap and me.”

“I want your scent all over me,” Bayberry murmured as he put nipping kisses along Thistle’s neck.

Thistle couldn’t catch his breath. It was as if Bayberry stole it each time he said something indicating his desire. It made Thistle wonder what Bayberry said while he fucked someone, and he so wanted to find out the answer to that question. “I… I want that too.” Thistle moaned as he tilted his head back to rest against Bayberry’s shoulder, giving Bayberry greater access to his flesh. “If you don’t stop, dinner will be ruined.”

“Decisions, decisions.” Bayberry chuckled before giving a particularly sharp, but not too painful, nip. He stepped back and released him, much to Thistle’s dismay.

If he wasn’t such a lover of food, Thistle would say to hell with dinner and jump Bayberry right there in the living room. As he turned to continue to the patio located in the middle of the garden, Bayberry took his hand. Thistle looked down at their twined fingers and his heart beat faster.

“Thistle, this is beautiful,” Bayberry said as they paused in the arched arbor leading to the open area where Thistle had their table set up. “Did you do all this?”

“Well, I designed it with my Gran’s help. My parents helped with the masonry, but Gran and I did the flowers and bushes. Do you like it?” Thistle was hesitant to ask such a question. He didn’t want to sound as if he were fishing for compliments.

“I love it,” Bayberry said. “My place is so… impersonal. This… this speaks of love and family, and… home.”

Thistle smiled but didn’t say anything more. He didn’t need to. The pleasure and awe in Bayberry’s voice was enough to let him know how he felt. He escorted Bayberry to the table and had him sit. As Thistle turned to retrieve their plates, Bayberry caught his hand once more. Thistle held his gaze as Bayberry brought their combined fingers to his lips. It was such a simple kiss, and yet it seared Thistle to his core. Slowly and very reluctantly, he withdrew his hand and hurried into the house.

“Oh my goodness,” he said with a shaky breath. “I can never breathe normally around him. He keeps doing things to make me lose it!” Thistle wet one of his dishcloths with cool water and patted his face with it. When he felt he was relatively calm, Thistle picked up their plates and walked back out to the patio.

Bayberry greeted him with a bright smile.

Thistle returned it as he took his seat. “I hope you enjoy dinner.”

“I’m sure I will.”

An awkward silence hung between them for the first few moments. Then Bayberry took a bite, and Thistle watched his eyes close in what appeared to be outright pleasure. Warmth filled Thistle, and as he watched Bayberry eat, he finally understood what his Gran meant about hearth magic. He was meant to take care of people. No, not people—a person. And not just any person—
this
person: Bayberry. He was meant to make a home with Bayberry. Would Bayberry see it the same way? That was the question, wasn’t it?

D
INNER
WAS
perfect. The wine and dessert were perfect.
Thistle
was perfect. Bayberry grinned as he watched Thistle bustle around, tidying up. He had attempted to help, but was quite firmly told to sit his “scrumptious ass” down on the couch. Since the command was followed by a sharp slap to said ass, Bayberry had done what he was told. He found he liked watching Thistle do things around the house. It just seemed right. Thistle was the type of elf someone made a home with. He wanted to be that elf. It was so… out of the blue, sort of. He’d always liked Thistle, liked his sweet charm and earnest desire to help.