The NorthStar Page 10

  “John, baby—” Rico spread his hands, pleading.

  “Read my lips, Rico. We are done. You burnt that bridge. If there was ever anything between us, it’s gone.”

  “You owe me!” Rico screamed, spittle flying. John stepped back so none would land on him.

  “I owe you? What could I possibly owe you?” John nearly laughed at the thought that he owed Rico anything.

  “You stole the best years of my life, my looks—all my friends have deserted me.”

  “If I were you, I’d think twice before talking about stealing things,” John said. “As for your friends, did you ever think that maybe if you’d been a better friend to them, they’d be more willing to return the favor? Now, quit making a scene and get off my porch. If I ever see you again—here or at the theater—I’m calling the cops.”

  The door behind him opened. “Everything all right out here?” Chance asked.

  “Rico is just leaving and never coming back,” John answered, not looking behind him, wanting to make sure Rico followed instructions.

  Rico started sobbing. John cringed, wishing he would go away. Just then Doug Maxwell, his neighbor four doors down, walked by with his golden retriever. Doug’s eyes widened as he took in the scene. John would’ve stared too. Rico was not a pretty sight.

  Reaching deep for patience he wasn’t sure he possessed, John asked, “Why are you still here, Rico?” He was clueless as to how Rico could convince himself there was something left to salvage between them.

  A pleasantly warm arm snuck around his waist as Chance slipped out onto the porch next to him. John leaned in just a little, soaking up the wordless support.

  The tears turned off as quickly as they’d started. Rico glared at them.

  “I don’t know why I wasted two years of my life with you,” he said.

  “I am going to have to agree with that sentiment. Can we also agree to move on? Please? It’s almost the new year; we can both start fresh.”

  For a moment John thought Rico was going to stay and continue arguing. Then his expression shifted to something more . . . resigned.

  “I guess.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  New Year’s Eve, traditionally, John didn’t show any films. He figured the NorthStar was open the rest of the year; he could take this one holiday off for himself. Reed was spending the holiday with his friends. His parents still hadn’t realized what a wonderful son they’d raised and that being gay was not a choice.

  Well, screw the Martins, John thought as he chopped onions. He would happily take over and make sure Reed was taken care of. The few times John had met them he hadn’t been impressed, but then neither had they, seeing as he was an out gay man who didn’t care what a couple of homophobic twerps thought about him. For Reed’s sake, he hoped they would change their minds, but he wasn’t holding his breath.

  Chance was out getting supplies for the evening’s celebration. John hadn’t asked for details; he was quickly learning Chance liked surprises. He had something in mind, and John would learn what it was when Chance was ready. Tea was most likely on the list, as they’d only managed to pick up a small box of something off-brand from the convenience store near the NorthStar.

  Being alone gave him time to mull over what he’d learned about Colin Short and why he’d done what he had. In addition to being a homophobic jerk, he was the nephew of the contractor for the construction going on across the street from the theater. Short and his uncle (also a homophobe and a generally greedy so-and-so) had apparently cobbled together a scheme to drive John out of business. He shuddered, considering how close they’d come to succeeding.

  Between the apparently purposeful electrical interruptions, construction blocking traffic before showtimes, and bad-mouthing John around town, they’d done damage. Then Short had come up with the idea of using John’s financial woes to force him further into despair, thinking that he and his uncle could swoop in and make John an offer he couldn’t refuse for the building—or get it cheap at auction.

  That part of their plan had been sleuthed out by Gloria Browning. It hadn’t taken much, especially since, even at eighty-seven, she still knew who to talk to in Skagit. Once Short was arrested, the uncle had panicked, but it was too late; authorities were already on to him too. John felt a little bad for the investor who’d hired him. Now he, or she, was going to have to deal with a lot of legal stuff and then find a new general contractor.

  While Chance was out, John was preparing black-eyed peas. His grandmother had grown up in Georgia, and her recipe had been made almost every year since John was born. He’d forgotten the year his parents passed, and last year, but this year he was picking up and starting again. He needed all the good luck he could get.

  As the scent of sautéing onions filled the kitchen, John got out several bags of dried black-eyed peas and poured them into a huge stainless steel pot before covering them with water. They needed to soak for at least four hours. The soup would simmer all evening, and tomorrow he would take little tastes around to his neighbors. Hopefully everyone would have good luck in the upcoming year.

  He was mincing fresh garlic when the doorbell sounded, surprising him. The stove clock said it was one-thirty. Chance had said not to expect him before three, and he had John’s keys anyway. Who would be knocking on their door?

  Padding out to the foyer, John saw a profile he didn’t recognize through the murky glass window set in the top of the door. Somewhat cautiously, he opened it. After everything that had happened over the past few days, he felt a little nervous. A man he didn’t recognize stood on the threshold.

  “May I help you?”

  The man seemed uncertain. “Right, ah, is this where Chance Allsop is holed up these days?” The man had an accent suspiciously similar to Chance’s.

  “Why?” Because, goddammit, if some old boyfriend showed up out of the blue to lay claim to Chance, there was going to be trouble. It was bad enough Rico had shown up the other day. John worked hard to have a good relationship with his neighbors; he didn’t need another scene.

  “I’m his friend, Edmund.”

  John eyed him closely. Edmund was probably around their age—over forty, at least. He wasn’t as tall as John, and no one would ever call him skinny; he was definitely on the heavy side, but lighter on the hair. No one ever said getting old was easy, John supposed, realizing his judging stemmed from jealousy and not what the stranger on his porch actually looked like.

  Still, “By friend you mean . . .”

  Edmund stared at him for a heartbeat before releasing a bark of laughter. “You’re a cracker! By friend I mean we tried each other on for size and decided sticking to being friends was the better choice.”

  John opened the door wider, motioning for Edmund to come inside. “Then come on in. Yes, Chance is holed up here, although right now he is out running errands.”

  The unexpected guest followed John inside, dragging behind him an enormous roller bag John hadn’t seen until then. How long was he planning on staying?

  “Chance hasn’t mentioned anything about a friend coming to town.”

  John added a little question mark to the end of his statement. Of course, he and Chance hadn’t had a lot of time to talk between hitting the sheets and bankers being arrested for fraud and whatnot, but John thought he would have mentioned it if a friend was coming for a visit.

  “Um, leave your bag at the bottom of the stairs, and mind the kitten.”

  The kitten heard them and came skittering across the kitchen floor. He slid to a stop, ending up catawampus over John’s shoe. The little monster was growing like a weed. The vet had confirmed he was male, around eight weeks old, and astonishingly flea-free and healthy, except for a bit of matted fur (which was taken care of before they left the office). The kitten had not been impressed with the exam and had tried to shred the vet and the vet tech.

  “Ah, that. I didn’t exactly tell him I was coming, did I? He won’t believe it, but when he told me he wasn’t coming
home—which is what I’d told him was going to happen—I decided I needed to come out here for myself and see what was so aces about a dot on a map. I bought the plane ticket before I could talk myself out of it. Once it was done I thought better of it, but I hate to waste money, right? And the ticket was nonrefundable. Um, so here I am.” Edmund spread his arms.

  The way the words spilled out, John thought maybe Edmund wasn’t used to talking a lot.

  “I brought the post he wanted me to forward,” Edmund added. He patted his jacket pocket as if he had the mail right there for Chance. Who knew, maybe he did. “Who’s this, then?” Edmund crouched down, and the beast skittered over to sniff his outstretched hand.

  “We haven’t named him yet. Can I get you something to drink? I only have generic tea; that’s one of the things Chance is getting. There’s plenty of coffee.”

  Edmund agreed coffee would be lovely and proceeded to make himself comfortable at the breakfast nook, peering around the kitchen. The kitten weaseled himself onto Edmund’s lap.

  While John prepared the espresso machine, he tried without much success not to think about the cup he and Chance had shared only a week or so earlier.

  “So, how do you know Chance?”

  While John prepared coffee for them both, Edmund regaled him with hilarious tales about him and Chance growing up together. Once the coffee was done, John turned on the local college radio station, which was doing a ’90s retro countdown to fill time until the evening show, and sat down at the table with Edmund.

  Edmund was in the middle of a story about Chance spending his pocket money for a Duran Duran new wave haircut but, instead of looking edgy and cool, ending up looking more like a peacock, when Chance appeared in the kitchen. John had been so engrossed in the story he hadn’t heard the front door open and shut.

  “Bloody hell, Edmund! What are you doing here?” Chance was loaded down with paper grocery bags. John hopped up to help him find space for them on the counter.

  Edmund stood too, holding the kitten protectively in front of him. “I took you up on your suggestion.”

  “What a marvelous surprise!” Chance finally got all the bags put down. Spinning on his heel, he stepped over to the nook to give his friend a bear hug.

  “Good lord, the godless republic has already ruined you! Respectable Englishmen don’t make such effusive displays of affection. You’re supposed to whack me on the back.” Edmund said something else, but it was muffled by Chance’s shoulder.

  The kitten squeaked and Chance pulled away, continuing to grasp his friend by the shoulders, peering closely at him. “You hate to travel. You don’t even like to go to the market, and it’s just down the lane!”

  Edmund’s cheeks pinkened. John thought he was adorable, a sensitive teddy-bear type who needed someone to look after him.

  “When your best mate calls from the wilds of America saying he’s met ‘the one’ and isn’t coming home anytime soon—well, I had to see this man for myself, didn’t I?”

  “How did you get here?” Chance asked.

  Edmund raised an eyebrow at his friend.

  “Yes, right, you flew, but I mean here, Edmund, here in Skagit.” Chance looked over at John, who’d propped one hip against the counter. “Aside from not traveling or picking up his own tin of tea, Edmund doesn’t drive.”

  John recalled seeing a car pull away from the curb when he let Edmund inside.

  “I took a bus, didn’t I? And then a taxi.” Edmund looked proud of himself.

  “So all I had to do was threaten to never come home, and it was enough to push you out of the flat and all the way to a foreign country?”

  Edmund shrugged, but he was smiling at his friend. He was one of those people who was perfectly forgettable-looking until he smiled, and then his entire face lit up.

  Chance returned to the grocery bags and began rummaging around in them, muttering to himself until he found what he was looking for. John heard “Unbelievable” more than once.

  “Aha!” Chance declared as he pulled a bottle of champagne out and began to peel the foil back from the cork.

  “John, would you mind getting glasses down? This calls for a celebration. It’s a good thing I bought several bottles.”

  * * *

  Several hours later, after finishing the champagne and John remembering he’d asked Chance to pick up fresh crab and smoked salmon for an appetizer dinner, they declared it happy New Year and put themselves to bed.

  “It’s been the new year in England for hours. I’m knackered.”

  John directed Edmund to the bedroom Chance had used the first few nights. They’d given up that charade and moved all his things to the master bedroom after Christmas.

  “We’re across the hall.”

  “As long as you two keep it down. I don’t know if I can live through another—” Edmund’s sentence was cut off when Chance put his hand over Edmund’s mouth.

  “Enough tales for tonight, right?”

  Edmund laughed as he dragged his huge suitcase into the bedroom and shut the door firmly behind him with a cheery, “Ta, see you in the morning.”

  John was tired and more than a little tipsy as he shuffled into what he very comfortably thought of as their room. He stripped down, leaving only his boxers on, and slid under the covers, lying on his side. Chance followed suit, spooning John, his big hand tugging John close so there was no space between them.

  “If I keep you, am I keeping Edmund too?” John said into the dark.

  A huff of laughter tickled John’s neck. “Ah, so you are keeping me, then?”

  “I suppose.” John grinned, happiness bubbling inside him.

  Chance nibbled on the back of John’s ear before answering. “I’m shocked he’s here. I’ve never been able to get him to go anywhere with me. Not even boring cruises with the promise of scantily clad boy toys wandering around.”

  John turned over onto his back so he could see Chance’s face, a face he cherished. “You’ve never told him you weren’t coming home before.”

  “True.”

  “I’ll keep Edmund too. He seems like he needs you. But I draw the line at sharing. I’m a one-guy . . . guy.”

  “Jealous, were you?” Chance stroked John’s cheek, and he leaned into it, just like the kitten did.

  “For about thirty seconds, until Edmund caught on and started laughing,” he confessed.

  “Good.”

  As John stared up into the hidden blue of Chance’s eyes, a well of emotion threatened to overcome him. Tears pressed against the back of his eyes, and one spilled out, tracing out a path to his ear.

  “What’s the matter?” Chance’s voice was full of concern.

  John shook his head. Chance gently tugged his chin back so he was looking at him again.

  “Did I do something?” His brow furrowed.

  “You didn’t do anything bad. I’m happy. As happy as I’ve been in . . . a very long time. I don’t want this to end, but I’m still afraid to believe you are for real. It’s hardly been a week, and you’ve changed my life already. I was miserable and lonely, losing my business. Now I have you in my bed, a kitten that’s growing like it’s some kind of mutant, my business has come back from the edge of extinction, and today I seem to have acquired a new friend.”

  “Mmmm, that’s all you, John. All those things—excepting Edmund—would have happened without me. You were in the midst of kitten rescue when I found you. As far as the cinema goes, you wouldn’t have let it go, not really. Do you think if when I met you I’d seen a shallow, helpless man I would still be here, planning to stay on if you’ll have me? That’s all you, John.” He stroked John’s cheek again. “All you.”

  Some indescribable noise escaped John, a protest or something. Before it formed into words, Chance leaned in to possess his lips, to possess him. John opened, quietly moaning. He wanted to be possessed by Chance, to be cherished.

  He felt himself responding and was grinding his hips back into Chance when an unholy cra
sh sounded from the first floor.

  Heart racing, John shoved Chance aside and leapt off the bed, fearful of what he would find downstairs. Had someone tried to break in? Maybe it was Rico back for one more try? He very nearly stumbled down the stairs, but Chance caught his arm from behind. They raced into the living room, searching for the source of the noise. It was there they discovered the remains of the Christmas tree and an entirely unrepentant gray kitten in the middle of it, batting an unbroken ornament around.

  “I think,” John muttered, “the line is, ‘Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings.’ What happens when the entire tree goes?”

  Chance chuckled, taking in the near complete destruction of the tree and the ornaments scattered to all corners of the room, “This is when we name the kitten ‘McClane’.”

  * * *

  THE END

  About the Author

  Thanks for reading this book! I’m Elle Keaton and I hail from the northwet (hahaha) corner of the US where we are known for rain, rain and more rain. I’m the author of the Accidental Roots series, set here in the Pacific Northwest featuring hot mm romance and the guarantee of a happy ending for my men. They start broken, and maybe they end up that way too, but they always find the other half of their hearts.

  I started writing way back when but only began publishing about two years ago and now have seven (almost eight) books out. Each features a couple in my little universe, sometimes there is added mystery and suspense.

  Currently, I am working on the ninth in the series as well as a mm paranormal romance. I’m dabbling with an m/f set in the same universe as Accidental Roots, it features a character who has been around from the beginning who really needs her own HEA. Feel free to email me with questions about the series or my writing elle@ellekeaton.com

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