Trouble & the Wallflower (2 page)

“I messed up the first one, so this one’s on the house.” Davy flashed his best grin at the friends, then with a “Have a good afternoon,” he escaped into the back room, wishing he could get farther away from Gavin than that. From the stockroom he could hear choruses of “shameless” and “creeper” from Gavin’s cackling crew of friends.

After the bell over the door signaled their departure, Davy waited for their laughter to recede, like the coward he was, then sighed and headed back out into the shop. He came up short as soon as he opened the curtain that separated the front counter and the back rooms. Gavin was still there, leaning on the counter and sucking on his drink through a straw. Yeah, those lips wrapped around that straw held a promise. A promise Davy had to will his body to ignore. All he needed was for that pest to see him get hard for him. This was one of those moments where Davy was sorry the employees had gotten rid of their uniform aprons, though he’d originally been the one to suggest it.

Gavin noticed Davy before he could even think of slipping back into the storeroom again, but he knew he’d look silly sneaking off.

“You didn’t think I’d leave without giving you a tip, did you?”

 There was that suggestive tone again. Who was this guy, The Most Interesting Man in the World? It was as though his voice dropped an octave just to sound sexy. It was as though he studied too many noir films to get his come-ons. Davy almost laughed at the idea of the shaggy-haired guy before him in a trench coat and fedora. Then Gavin’s eyes got that predatory gleam again.
Shit.
He must have seen that almost-smile.
Shit.

“Uh. Really, it wasn’t necessary. I messed up.” Davy busied himself with a mop, cleaning the spilled drink from the floor, but Gavin didn’t take his hint to bugger off. But why should this time be any different?

“No. I insist.” He made sure Davy saw him slip a ten-dollar bill in the tip jar.

Davy wanted to pull it out and throw it at him, but he couldn’t turn down a tip. And didn’t this guy know a tip was a tacky way to try to pick someone up?
What am I, a hooker?

“You know, my gramps loves peanut-butter shakes. I remember you saying to someone that you made the best. Mind whipping one up for him? To go, of course.”

Davy huffed. Damn was he glad his boss wasn’t here to see him being so rude to a customer, but wasn’t this sexual harassment, anyway? He had a sudden urge to look up how he could deal with that in the handbook. He hoped it involved pruning shears.

With a scowl, Davy scooped the ice cream and peanut butter to make the shake. He knew Gavin watched him the whole time and could feel his ears burning. Of course Gavin looked pleased with himself when Davy handed him the shake red-faced and fidgeting.

He laid down more cash on the counter. “Keep the change.”

Davy looked at him defiantly. “That’s ridiculous, Gavin.”

“See! I knew you remembered!”

Gavin looked as though he’d won a prize. Damn him for being adorable when he was excited. And smug. Who made smug look cute?
Apparently Gavin.
Davy blamed it on that button nose and the dimples. Bastard. Gavin picked up one of the to-go menus they kept on the counter and a pen from beside the cash register, then jotted down his phone number for the millionth time. When he slid it across the counter toward Davy, they locked gazes, and Davy had to force himself to look away. Gavin chuckled. “Use it.”

“Have a good afternoon,” Davy said, using his most annoyed tone, which just got another chuckle from Gavin.
Oh yeah. Gavin’s figured that trick out already.

“See you next time, Davy.”

Gavin’s voiced dripped sex. Davy refused to look at him, wiping the counter viciously though there wasn’t a smudge on it. The bastard had the nerve to chuckle all the way out of the store. When the door closed behind Gavin, Davy let out an exasperated grunt and smacked his hand on the counter. At least he had avoided a panic attack. He looked over at the to-go menu with the phone number and
Gavin Walker
written on it. Davy was always surprised at how neat Gavin’s penmanship was. That didn’t stop him from wadding up the paper and throwing it in the trash before removing the liner to take it to the dumpster.

“A
RE
YOU
sure you don’t need anything? I’ll be in town next week. I can bring groceries.” Davy’s Uncle Drew meant well, but every time they talked on the phone, it ended like this. Davy stretched out on his couch, knowing this conversation wasn’t ending anytime soon.

“Really, I’m cool. I promise.” It was his automatic response. He knew his uncle was just worried about him, but he was being honest when he said it. His uncle was worried he was following in his mother’s footsteps. Drew had helplessly watched his older sister’s downward spiral into being a housebound agoraphobic. He checked on Davy daily, making sure he ventured out into the world. Davy definitely didn’t consider himself that bad. Yeah, he had some social anxiety issues and was painfully shy, but unlike his mother, he would go stark raving mad if he stayed locked indoors all the time.

“If you’re sure.”

Drew sounded skeptical. He, like Gavin and his friends, was the opposite of Davy in almost every way. He was an attractive, outgoing gay man who took time out of his busy social schedule every afternoon to be a mother hen to his awkwardly shy nephew. Being an educator, he’d always been annoyed with Davy’s mother’s choice to homeschool her son. He was right, honestly, because even Davy knew his biggest issue was that he had absolutely no socialization other than work. He’d not spoken to anyone other than his elderly neighbors until he got the job at the soda shop when he was sixteen. His mother had been dead set against him leaving the house, but his uncle had talked her into it, and Davy found his first bit of freedom. It hadn’t served him too well. His first fumblings with friends and boys were all unsuccessful because he was too naïve to realize when he was being played. He was wary of people, but certainly not of the sunshine and the busy streets of the city.

“Are you okay for money? I know you can’t make enough to live on at that ice cream place.” Drew was like a dog with a bone, but it made Davy smile while feeling warmth from the knowledge that he was lucky to have someone who cared.

“I’ve still got enough from financial aid and Mom’s life insurance to make up the difference.”

Drew harrumphed inelegantly. “Well, how are your online classes going?”

“They’re good, Uncle Drew. I’m almost done, actually. I’ll be able to get a big-boy job.”
And Gavin won’t be able to stalk me there.

“That’s great, Davy. If you need any help with your résumé….”

“I’ll call you.” Davy laughed. “I really should go finish some schoolwork, though.”

“Davy, it’s a Saturday! Fuck your homework! Go out. Have some fun.”

Davy shook his head at his uncle’s enthusiasm. He didn’t know what the point of going out would be. He’d just sit in the background and watch other people have fun. His uncle wouldn’t know what that was like. He was only twelve years older than Davy’s twenty-two years, but he acted more Davy’s age than Davy did. When he wasn’t busy playing mommy/uncle, that was.

“I’ll think about it,” Davy said. He knew that was the only answer that would get his uncle off the phone.

Drew sighed in exasperation. “I know that’s a no, but I’ll leave you alone. Love you, man. Have a good night. If you need me, call Allie’s phone. She’s DD. She’ll answer and get me.”

“Night, Uncle Drew.” Davy didn’t give his uncle a chance to start rambling again and pressed the End Call button on his phone’s touch screen. He tossed his phone down on his coffee table and rubbed his hands over his face. He sat up and looked around his spartan one-bedroom apartment. When he’d transferred to the smaller apartment after his mom’s death a year earlier, he’d sold off most of her oversize furniture. He needed the money, and her stuff was way too ornate and feminine for him. Anything special went into a cheap storage unit down in Tukwila. His apartment was all bare walls and IKEA furniture. It was all he needed. Not like he entertained enough to need anything fancy. He was a loner and this was his space. He was cool with that.

You sure about that?
his brain always teased him. He pictured plump lips and wicked brown eyes for a moment, and he definitely wasn’t sure he was quite as happy being a loner as he once had been. Without his mom rattling around, his lack of human contact
—
a simple hug or a ruffle of his hair while he worked on his schoolwork
—
was starting to make his inner cuddle-bear desperate. Dammit.

He stood in a huff, pushing that thought away, and went to his fridge to stare inside for a minute. He wasn’t hungry. Maybe he could go for a run. He shut the fridge and started pacing. He could always go biking.
Or you could listen to Drew and just go out.
No way. That wasn’t an option.

Shut up, you. Stop being a baby.

Fuck it. He steeled his resolve. It was already ten. People would be out and about. One drink wouldn’t hurt.

I
KNEW
this was a bad idea.

Davy sat in a booth, barely able to hear that thought for the
thumpa-thumpa
of the bassline of the song that had everyone else in the club grinding on one another. He sipped his second vodka and cranberry, wishing it’d give him the same courage it seemed to give other people to go out and mingle with the sexy guys having fun on the floor with their friends. Maybe even make out with someone. That’d be real nice. So far he’d only been approached by a go-go boy who’d sensed a lonely heart needing some entertainment, but the guy had given up when Davy couldn’t even meet his gaze. Davy felt sufficiently lame and was beginning to think he should make his exit after he finished this drink. At least he’d gotten a nice buzz. That was about all he ever got out of a trip to the gay club. He was too busy hiding in the background. He also saw enough shirtless guys making out with each other to provide him with enough jerk-off material until his next visit.

He stood and shook his head at himself, then made his way to the bar to hand off his empty glass. The bartender asked if he needed another. Before he could finish saying no, a familiar group of guys walked up the stairs, drinks in hand and laughing. Gavin’s buddies from the ice cream shop were all dressed to kill. And there was Gavin following behind them. He had a genuine smile. It almost took Davy’s breath away. Gavin looked boyish and innocent when his grin wasn’t that predatory Grinch grin Davy usually saw.

He was also a total stunner in his club clothes. A black wifebeater showed off sinewy muscles and smooth skin. He had several randomly placed tattoos that Davy’s brain imagined licking. Twice. Gavin’s bright-blue shorts showed off the man’s sexy legs.
Sexy legs?
Really? How drunk are you?

The bartender tapped Davy’s shoulder, and Davy jumped. The bartender had his eyebrows raised and impatiently repeated the question. Davy got a glimpse of Gavin taking one of his friend’s hands and leading him out to the floor, where he started a sexy bump-and-grind. Davy’s cheeks flushed at the thoughts the sensual movements of Gavin’s trim hips inspired. He turned to the bartender and nodded. The bartender had obviously seen where Davy had been staring like a fool. Davy felt like an idiot for being so obvious, but the bartender smiled at him sympathetically and started making his drink. When he passed the vodka and cranberry over, Davy held out some cash. The guy held his hand up and shook his head. When Davy looked at him in confusion, the guy crooked his finger so Davy leaned in. The guy met him halfway and spoke loud enough to be heard over the music but not enough to be heard by anyone but Davy. “That guy, he’s trouble.”

“So why am I not paying for my drink?” Davy was so confused. Maybe it was the booze?

“Honey, if that’s your type, the only way you’ll stop hugging that wall is if you get some more of those in your system. That one’s on me.” Davy’s face heated, and the bartender laughed. “Go and have fun, little wallflower. Just don’t waste your time on idiots like that.” Davy tried to thank the guy, but he was so embarrassed the words stuck in his throat, so he just nodded and went back to his booth.
One more drink. That’s all
, he told himself. He just couldn’t stop watching Gavin. He needed five more minutes to see the man in action. He knew it was lame
—
and creepy. But this Gavin, the one so sure of himself that he was sex on legs, who danced like that and owned that dance floor, was the Gavin who kept pulling Davy in. He wished he’d see more of this Gavin than that smug asshole Gavin turned into when he was in the shop.