The Square Peg (10 page)

and buggered off before the sweat had dried on Shane’s back. He’d muttered something

that’d sounded like a thank-you, then visibly changed from the relentless, commanding

fucker who’d left Shane’s arse raw and throbbing—God, he’d missed that ache—to the

accountant, composed, efficient, chilly.

Whether he’d driven home or caught a cab, Shane didn’t know, but Saturday and

Sunday had passed without a word.

Right. He got the message. He was good enough for a wild ride when Benedict

was drunk and in the mood, but he didn’t rate a follow-up call. Fine.

No, not fine.

Generally, a quick exit and no empty promises suited him, but not with Benedict.

The man had torn away every protective layer Shane had and seen through him, then

given Shane just exactly what he wanted. No one had ever done that before. With other

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men, to get what he wanted, he’d had to ask for it, and fuck, he’d hated it. Hated seeing

the surprise or laughter or scorn, hated the way they’d never quite done it right.

Benedict had been fucking perfect, rough without being cruel, there with him all

the way, seeing to him and not leaving him hanging, giving him a climax that—

Shane shook himself free of the memories and gave Rob a halfhearted glare. “I’m

making a new room. We just need to cut in a door. Why the hell would we be knocking

down walls, you pillock?”

Rob rolled his eyes, bright blue and clear, unlike Shane’s bloodshot ones. The man

was six-four easy, long dark hair caught back into a ponytail, a permanent five-o’clock

shadow rough along his jaw. “You said you wanted the bar extending into the new

room. That means knocking down. Never mind. I think I see what we can do. If we

curve it around here…”

His mind drifting off again almost immediately, Shane didn’t pay proper attention

to the conversation until Benedict was mentioned. “What?”

“Don’t shoot the messenger! I was just repeating what I heard.” Rob held up his

hands to demonstrate his innocence.

“Repeat it again,” Shane said grimly.

“Patrick said the new guy’s kind of an asshole.” Rob looked at him with an

eyebrow raised, waiting for his reaction.

“Well, Patrick doesn’t know his arse from his elbow, so he’s hardly one to judge, is

he?” Shane made a mental note to talk to Patrick about his attitude and knowing when

to keep his mouth shut.

“I was the one who asked,” Rob explained. “He wasn’t complaining or anything. I

was just curious.”

“I don’t know the new guy—whose name is Benedict, by the way—very well, but

he seems nice enough.” Shane had no idea why he was defending Benedict, though it

was just the same as what he’d been doing in his head the past few days, alternating

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irritation and admiration until he’d no idea which way was north. “Did Patrick mention

Benedict’s letting Vincent stay with him?”

Rob nodded. “Yeah. Well, actually, Vin did.”

Obviously Vincent and Patrick needed more ways to fill their time during work

hours. Shane added
Make a list to keep staff busy so they don’t run their mouths
to his

mental to-do catalog and held himself firmly to focus on the job at hand. “So how long

will it be once you’ve taken all the measurements?”

“I can have it for you tomorrow,” Rob said.

“Good enough.” Shane reluctantly added, “Benedict—my partner—wants to get a

few other quotes too.”

“I bet he does.” Rob sniffed, a sharp emphatic sound. “He’s got a point. Makes

sense. He won’t get a more competitive price, though.”

“I’ll make sure you get the job if I can,” Shane promised. He owed Rob that.

“If you can? He’s got you whipped already? This is your place, Shane, not his.”

Remembering how he’d gone to his knees for Benedict and how much he’d loved

doing it, even as he’d hated himself for revealing so much to a virtual stranger made

Shane snappy. “Not according to Craig’s dying wishes, so button it.”

Rob’s eyes widened. “Yes, sir.”

The sarcasm was laid on with a trowel, and Shane felt his lips thin, his temper

already frayed. “Just give us the quote and make sure you put both our names on the

top, okay?”

Easygoing usually, Rob was already backing down. “Shane, look, I didn’t mean—

”

“I know,” Shane said tiredly. “There’s a pot of coffee on in the back room. I’ll get

us both one, okay? Wake us up.”

Rob’s smile was relieved. “Sounds good. Three sugars and cream if you’ve got it.”

“We don’t. It’s milk or nothing.”

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Rob held up hands as battered and nicked as Shane’s, but easily half again as big.

“Milk’s good.”

Shane relaxed, giving Rob a sheepish smile as he walked away. Not the big guy’s

fault. He filled two big mugs, fire-engine red and thick enough to survive multiple

washings, and took them back into the bar. “Here you go,” he began, then stopped dead

in his tracks.

Benedict. Suited up, carrying a fucking briefcase, that dark hair smoothed down.

He looked as out of place as a ballerina in a tutu would’ve done.

“Shane. Good morning. I thought I’d drop by on the way to work and meet Mr.

Carson.”

Shane was still frozen. It was stupid; he shouldn’t be surprised to see the man who

would continue to be his business partner for the foreseeable future standing in his bar.

Their bar.

“That would be me,” Rob said, stepping forward and offering Benedict his hand.

“Call me Rob.”

“I’m Ben,” Benedict said. “Thanks for looking at this. It’ll be a hell of a job. I think

some of the wiring might be from the fifties. We could really use your help.”

“Well, I could really use the work, so hopefully we can come to an agreement.”

Rob stepped over to the table where he’d set his scribbled notes and picked the papers

up. “Do you have a minute? It helps, when there’s more than one client, to just make

sure we’re all on the same page. My quote will be more accurate if I’m clear on

everything you want.”

“Sure.”

Rob led Benedict to the end of the bar and started describing what they’d outlined

as Shane did his best to recover from his shock. He felt like an idiot. He went to sit not

too far from where they were standing. He’d no idea what he’d say to Benedict when

the time for conversation inevitably arrived, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to leave

the room either.

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65

“And then the electrical, but I won’t be doing that myself,” Rob was saying. “I’ve

got a guy who does that. He’s licensed and insured, and if you want it, I can give you a

list of references as long as my arm. I think Shane knows him: Charlie Lawson?”

“Right.” Shane did, indeed, know Charlie Lawson. Charlie had a reputation as a

hard worker during daylight hours and an even more thorough player at night. Shane

would be willing to bet on any given night half the men in the bar had been to bed with

Charlie Lawson. Most of them would probably go to bed with him again if given the

chance. It was a mystery considering everything Shane had heard about what a lousy

lay the man was, but somehow it always managed to sound like sour grapes.

“This all sounds good,” Benedict said. “Did Shane tell you—”

“That you want to get some other quotes? Sure.” Rob shrugged, his broad

shoulders impressive. “Word of warning, though. With me, well, I’m family. Gay,” he

added when Benedict looked blank. “So’s Charlie. Doubt anyone else you brought in

would be, and they’d be making a lot of comments about the customers and you two.”

Benedict frowned. “It wouldn’t be any of their business what the clientele of the

bar was like. Or the fact Shane and I are gay.”

“No, but they’d still have plenty to say under their breath or just loud enough that

you could hear it, but not loud enough for you to call them on it.” Rob sounded matter-

of-fact, not bitter, but Shane still felt a stab of anger. Rob had told him stories of the way

he’d been treated on some construction crews or jobs, and it wasn’t pretty.

“I hadn’t thought about that,” Benedict said slowly. He glanced at Shane, an

appealing look Shane couldn’t help responding to.

“I know it’s sensible to get the three bids in and go for the middle one, but I can

vouch for Rob, and big though he is, he knows I’ll kick his arse if he cuts corners or tries

to put one over on us, don’t you, mate?”

“I’ll bring you a stepladder so you can get a real good swing at it,” Rob said, his

lips curving in a grin.

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“Cheeky bastard,” Shane said affectionately. He raised his eyebrows at Benedict.

“Well?”

“Do it,” Benedict said and offered his hand to be swallowed up by Rob’s. He

checked his watch, an expensive one from what Shane could see, elegant and fancy.

“Okay, I need to make tracks.”

“I’ll start drawing up a rough estimate.” Rob wandered off, mug of coffee in his

hand, whistling tunelessly between his teeth, and Shane headed after Benedict, already

halfway to the door. They needed to talk.

“You planning on taking off without even talking to me?” he asked, catching up

and turning so Benedict had no choice but to look at him.

“I said good morning.” Benedict had his gaze focused somewhere around the

collar of Shane’s shirt.

“And that’s meant to let you off the hook? I don’t think so.”

“Look, the other night—” Stepping closer, Benedict lowered his voice, presumably

so Rob wouldn’t be able to overhear. “It was my fault, okay? I get that. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?”

Benedict’s gaze finally met his. “It was me. I let things get out of control. I should

have called to apologize. I just…didn’t know what to say. But I promise it won’t happen

again. We’re going to work together. You can’t always be worrying that I’ll have a

couple of beers and jump you.”

“That’s the least of my worries.” Benedict gave him a blank stare, and Shane

sighed. “I had fun, okay? One-off, never happen again—sure. But don’t go beating

yourself up over it. I’m a big boy. I could’ve told you where to shove it.” He chuckled,

though he wasn’t feeling all that amused, rebuilding the defenses Benedict had torn

down since it was clear Benedict had no interest in what he’d laid bare with his words,

his body, and those strong, certain hands. Shane could fake casual indifference as easily

as breathing. “Well, I did, didn’t I?”

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67

“I don’t—” Benedict shook his head, a bewildered, resentful look in his eyes, as if

Shane wasn’t reacting the way he’d expected. “I’m going to be late for work.”

“Can’t have that,” Shane said. He didn’t move, though, still blocking the way to

the door, a foot behind him. If Benedict wanted to leave, he was going to have to brush

past the man he’d fucked raw before buggering off. Shane didn’t see why he should

make it easy for Benedict to cut and run a second time.

“It’s not that I don’t—” Grimacing, Benedict shook his head. “I have to go.”

“So you’ve said.”

“No, I mean it. I’ll come back at the end of the day, okay? We can talk then.”

Shane tilted his head to the side. “No one’s stopping you, Benedict. Go on, then.”

Benedict flushed, his lips thinning; then he nodded at the door. “Open it for me, or

get out of my way, Shane. I’m not playing games with you.”

“Not like Friday? Pity.” Shane had to give the man points for not backing down.

He turned to the side, giving Benedict ample room to pass. “On your way then, mate.

Don’t rush back. We can manage without you.”

Benedict paused, his hand on the door, and turned his head to meet Shane’s eyes.

“I’m coming back, Shane. Get used to it. This place is mine as much as it is yours, and I

don’t walk away from something I own. I control it. I get the best out of it. I make it

work for me.”

“I’m not included with the bar,” Shane snapped, his heart thudding as Benedict

finally got a fucking backbone. God, he was one sick fuck for getting off on it, but he

couldn’t help himself. His cock was filling, aching for a touch it wasn’t going to get

from the man who’d made it harden. “I don’t work for you, and I never will.”

“No, you’re supposed to work
with
me, but you keep fighting me instead.”

Benedict looked tired, his brown eyes shadowed. Shane would have to grill Vincent on

what Benedict had been like over the weekend, if he’d been eating right, sleeping well.

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“Stop fighting me, Shane. It’s not helping the situation, and it’s getting old. I’ll see you

later.”

The door swung closed, and Shane drew in a sharp, aggravated breath.

It was beyond maddening that a man he’d met less than a week ago had the

ability to occupy his thoughts the entire morning based on a three-minute conversation.

Shane found himself replaying Benedict’s words over and over in his head even though

each time he did so, a fresh wave of anger and frustration washed over him.