The Square Peg (31 page)

trust on but his gut and the way Benedict took care of him. Benedict exuded integrity

and reliability—even when he was turning Shane’s backside into an inferno or fucking

him raw.

He knew from today that Benedict was possessive about him—and God, how

much did he get off on that?—but did Benedict love him?

Shane couldn’t see himself asking that question when he was sober. He dragged

his gaze off Benedict and turned to signal Vincent for a drink, only to find Vincent

staring at him, an amused smile on his face.

“What?” he snapped, heat rising in his face as if he’d been caught peeping through

a window.

Vincent widened his eyes innocently and shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Then get back to work and get me a fucking drink.” Shane gestured at Benedict.

“You, get over here.”

Benedict blinked, but came over willingly enough, and settled on the stool next to

his. Feeling defiant, Shane slung an arm around Benedict’s neck and tugged him closer,

then kissed his temple. The expression Benedict turned toward him was shocked.

“What—”

“Not allowed to kiss my boyfriend in public?” Shane growled, in a tone that didn’t

permit disagreement. The slow smile that spread across Benedict’s face was well worth

it.

They sat there for a few minutes, neither of them saying anything until Shelly

groaned behind the bar. She was peering into the just-run dishwasher. “Broke another

206

Jane Davitt & Alexa Snow

four,” she announced. “We either have to get someone in here to adjust this thing or

buy some different glasses, because these keep cracking.”

It wasn’t the first time Shane had heard the complaint. “Benedict ordered some.

Not sure where they ended up.”

Benedict was already standing. “I’ll grab a box.” He headed for the hallway, and

Shane moved to help Shelly wrap the broken glassware so it could be taken to the big

recycling bin out back without cutting anyone.

Another group of men came in and ordered drinks from Vincent. Shane had never

seen them before either. In fact, half the patrons in the place were new faces. Christ, this

was a different world in more ways than one.

Shelly frowned at something behind him, and Shane turned to see Benedict frozen

in place, holding a cardboard box in front of him like a shield and staring at the men

who’d just come in. He saw Shane looking at him and swallowed, smiled what might

have been the least convincing smile Shane had ever seen, and started walking toward

them again.

“Do you want to just get rid of those?” Benedict asked, sounding bloody awful. “If

they’re just gonna break anyway.”

“Seems a waste. Maybe we can just let the staff take them home. They’d be okay if

they were washed by hand.” He took the box from Benedict and set it down on the

floor, out of the way. “What’s wrong?” he asked, lowering his voice and automatically

moving to shield Benedict from view.

Benedict closed his eyes for a second, breathing in deeply. If he started intoning

om
, Shane was getting him out of there. “Nothing. No, don’t glare at me. That group

who came in—the tall blond is my ex, Jenson. Looks as if he’s with someone.”

“Yeah? Well, so are you.” Shane had to do some deep breathing of his own. If

Benedict was going to do some comparisons between the old and the new and decide

he preferred vintage…

The Square Peg

207

He turned his head and gave Jenson a critical once-over. Good-looking, bland,

clothes a little too matchy-matchy, a hint of petulance in his expression as he settled for

Gordon’s with his tonic because they were all out of Blue Sapphire. Shane made a

mental note to get more in and discovered his fists were clenched when he tried to pick

up a glass and get himself a shot of vodka.

Shit
. They couldn’t both go to pieces. He rolled up his right sleeve, high enough to

expose the small, dark bruise just below the crook of his elbow, and angled his arm so

Benedict could see it. “You put that on me,” he said softly, brushing it with his fingertip

and feeling a thrill go through him. That one had been the ninth. “You never did that to

him, I bet. You might have wanted to, but you wouldn’t have dared. You’re different

now. Stronger. You know who you are. Show him.”

“I wanted him,” Benedict said, and Shane felt his heart drop down somewhere

near his knees.

“Do you still?” God, it killed him to say it. It killed him a little bit more when

Benedict didn’t answer right away. “Benedict. Look at me.”

Benedict reached out and touched the bruise on Shane’s arm, then lifted his face

and shook his head. “No. I don’t want him anymore.” His voice was barely above a

whisper, but it might as well have been shouted from the rooftops as far as Shane was

concerned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think. About how you’d feel. God. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Shane slid a hand up along Benedict’s jaw into his hair. It curled wild around his

fingers. “Don’t be sorry. Be here. With me.”

“I am,” Benedict said. “You’re right. I should listen to you more.”

“Yes, you should.” Shane gave in to temptation and slipped his other hand into

Benedict’s hair as well. He shook Benedict’s head back and forth gently. “Deep breaths,

now. Get hold of yourself. He’s just another bloke. And he’s certainly not good enough

for you.”

208

Jane Davitt & Alexa Snow

Benedict’s mouth twisted. It wasn’t a smile, but it was a start. “Thank you,”

Benedict said and leaned in to press the sweetest kiss Shane had ever imagined against

his lips.

“Go on then. Show him you don’t need him.”

“That’s going to be easy,” Benedict said, his voice strengthening with every word.

“Because I don’t. Not if I have you.”

“Oh, you’ve got me,” Shane told him. “Body and soul. Yours.”

Benedict sighed. “Now I want to ignore him and take you upstairs so you can

show me how true that is.”

It was tempting, even if they’d only just had sex an hour ago, but Shane shook his

head. “Well, you can’t. Go and rub his nose in what he’s lost out on.”

That got him an eye roll. “Because that’s not petty at all.”

Benedict squared his shoulders and walked to the end of the bar with a confident

stride. Shane didn’t join him, but he picked up a cloth and began to wipe down the bar,

the action familiar enough to be soothing, and gradually drifted closer so he could

eavesdrop.

“Jenson! Good to see you in here.”

“Ben. Hi.” Jenson had his arm around a guy with short dark hair and an

expression Shane didn’t like. “I wondered if we’d see you here. I figured you’d be more

behind the scenes.”

“No,” Benedict said. “I’m right out here on the front lines.”

“It’s not a war, Ben.” Jenson laughed, and Shane wondered if he was always this

much of a prick. He sounded so dismissive.

Benedict picked up a used empty glass from the bar and stood there holding it.

Keep it together, Benedict, Shane thought. “This isn’t your scene, is it?” Benedict asked.

“I wouldn’t have thought so, but that article in the paper…I was curious.”

The Square Peg

209

So they had that bloody reporter woman to blame for Jenson’s appearance. Add it

to the list of ways in which she’d fucked them over.

Jenson’s new boyfriend cleared his throat, and Jenson had the decency to look

embarrassed, at least. “Sorry. Ben, this is Andrew. My boyfriend.”

“Nice to meet you.” Benedict finally put down the glass he’d been holding, and

Vincent reached to pick it up. Good to know Shane wasn’t the only one who’d noticed

something going on; it was a talent of Vincent’s, the ability to read people and know

which ones were aiming for alcohol poisoning and which were itching for a fight.

Introduce me
. Shane wondered if Benedict would hear him if he concentrated hard

enough.

After shaking Andrew’s hand, Benedict turned slightly and smiled at Shane. “I’d

like you to meet Shane. He’s my business partner and co-owner of the bar.” Shane’s

stomach lurched, but before he could open his mouth to point out that most people

didn’t suck their business partner’s dicks on a regular basis, Benedict continued, “More

importantly, though, he’s my boyfriend. I’m a lucky man.”

Shane dropped the polishing cloth and went to join Benedict, resisting the urge to

hurry. Casual, he told himself.
Don’t show off; don’t swear; don’t grab Benedict’s arse just

because it’s there and you can. Be classy.

He shook hands with Jenson and Andrew. The couple they’d come in with had

gone over to the pool table, examining it as if it were something on display in a gallery.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he said with a complete lack of sincerity.

“Love the accent,” Jenson said, his insincerity equally plain. “Scottish, right?”

“English,” Shane said flatly.

“Oh. Sorry.”

“I’m not.” He felt the pressure of Benedict’s heel against his toes, a gentle

reminder that could turn painful if Benedict bore down. “I mean, no need to be sorry.

Easy to get them mixed up.”
If you’re deaf.

210

Jane Davitt & Alexa Snow

“Well, the whole place is so tiny, it shouldn’t have room for accents.” Jenson

snickered at his joke, Andrew joining in, then waved dismissively. “Britain’s a fading

power politically and economically. You made a wise move coming here. I take it you

are here legally?”

Bloody cheek
. Shane said curtly, “Been here for years, all above board.”

“Well, isn’t that nice.” Jenson picked up his gin and tonic, the slice of lime a vivid

green, jostled by the ice, and raised it in an ironic toast. “Here’s to new partners.

Business and…otherwise.”

Christ, what a fucking arsehole the man was. It was hard to imagine why Benedict

had put up with him for long enough to eat a meal, let alone plan a life together.

Assuming that’s what they’d done. Shane made an excuse as fast as he could think of

one and dragged Benedict away. “He’s a prick,” Shane told Benedict once he’d got him

to the office. He pushed Benedict up against the wall and kissed him, ran eager hands

over his chest and arms. “Doesn’t deserve you.”

Benedict made a little sound of encouragement and kissed him back until they

were out of breath. “Thanks,” Benedict said, tilting his head so their foreheads were

touching. “That was—thank you.”

“Don’t be a moron,” Shane said. He patted Benedict’s hip. “I can’t believe he

turned up here. Do you believe he didn’t think he’d see you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. He’s pretty sure he’s right about everything.” Benedict

sighed, and Shane realized neither of them was hard. That had to be a first.

“Did you have dinner?”

“No. I figured we’d grab some after the piercing place, but…”

Yeah, they’d gone back to Benedict’s house and had crazy, desperate sex instead.

“Let me order you something now. You won’t make it to closing if you don’t eat.”

The Square Peg

211

“I might not anyway,” Benedict said, but he agreed to a sandwich from the shop

up the street whose employees would deliver because they knew they could count on

Shane for good tips.

Two hours later, Benedict having eaten and relaxed, they were sitting on either

side of the desk and arguing about the best use of their limited advertising funds.

“I think more gay guys read the
Advocate
,” Benedict said. “Plus, look at the kinds

of ads that are in here.” He shoved the newspaper back across the desk at Shane, who’d

already read it.

“Yeah, they’re the kinds of places we’d go, but we don’t just want guys like us

coming in here. There are just as many lesbians who’d like a safe place to have a few

drinks; getting them through the doors has never been easy.”

Benedict tapped the paper. “Okay, what if we do this—split the cash between ads

in the
Advocate
and that free gay magazine or whatever it is, then do some kind of poll

of new customers to see what percentage of them saw the ads in either place?”

Shane snorted. “That’s what people want when they come in for a drink, to have

to fill out a fucking poll.”

“I’d do it,” Benedict said, and what the hell was Shane supposed to say to that? He

wasn’t going to imply people like Benedict were as rare as endangered species. Benedict

was sure to take it as an insult instead of the compliment it was.

“You’re the kind of man who gets involved,” he said. That was diplomatic, wasn’t

it? “Most people just can’t be arsed.” An idea occurred to him. “How about the ad has a

space for a name and phone number? Something people can tear out. We can have a

box on the bar, and people can drop the bit of paper in there, and each week we’ll draw

a winner, and they get, I don’t know, a meal for two or something. But what we’re

really doing is seeing what paper they read.”

“I like it,” Benedict said, after taking a moment to mull it over. “It’d give us a