Used, Rare and Limited Editions 3: Wine and Dine Read online

  "Really.” Dave looked at the closed paperback and picked it up. It was clearly a modern book and had a price penciled in the front cover. “What did you decide?” He flipped through, looking for familiar verses.

  "I thought he was perhaps stretching the truth. You tell me.” Des sat in a chair and, with a gesture, invited Dave to read.

  Dave shook his head but kept on flipping. “Oh, this is interesting.” He checked the table of contents and then the other book, trying to find the same poet. “Most common volumes of the Romantics—meaning, not text books—include the biggest names from the period: Keats, Shelley, Byron, Wordsworth, Coleridge. I've come across a few with John Clare, but not nearly as many that have the others. He went mad, you know."

  "Didn't they all? And you forgot Charles Lamb, Blake, Sir Walter Scott, William Hazlitt..."

  "Oh, a cynic.” Dave laughed and found what he was looking for. “The list goes on and on, and they all had their moments, yes. But, listen to this poem; Clare had a lovely turn of phrase and his descriptions of nature were accurate and not nearly so gooey as, say, Wordsworth."

  "You find Wordsworth to be ‘gooey?’ That's a fascinating observation."

  "Shh, you can laugh at me later.” Dave waved the chuckles away and started to read from John Clare's Winter Walk. The poem was an easy one to read out loud, and he certainly didn't have any trouble with the typeface.

  It wasn't until he finished the two stanzas—Clare wasn't particularly verbose even if he was lyrical—that Dave realized Wyatt had come home. He was standing in the doorway, smiling at them and listening politely.

  "Very nice,” Des said warmly. “You should read out loud to me as often as I can convince you. Don't you think, Wyatt?"

  "Absolutely.” Wyatt came in and kissed Des as Dave put the book down and made a show of waving the flattery away. “That was wonderful, Dave."

  "It was written by a wonderful poet,” Dave pointed out. “Did you have a good evening?"

  Wyatt smirked and held out his hands. “Oh, yes.” His wrists had distinct red marks above the bone. “Very good."

  "Nice,” Des said, laughing. “You'll be wearing long sleeves until Tuesday, I'd guess."

  Dave grinned and reached for his coat. “Did you leave Archie in one piece?"

  "He was fine when I left him, yes.” Wyatt's eyes twinkled at him. “He asked me to tell you that breakfast may be delayed in the morning."

  "Ha. That's what he thinks.” Dave snickered as he pulled on his coat and draped his tie around his neck. “Little does he know that I set his alarm for him."

  Wyatt laughed and came around the shelves to hug Dave. “Good for you.” He kissed Dave's cheek, received a kiss in return and backed away. “Good night, Dave. Sir, I'm going to go put the kettle on. I'm hoping to hear about the play before we go to sleep."

  "My opinion of the play won't be as impassioned as Dave's, but I'd be delighted to tell you all about how the Mad Hatter should have been the pimp."

  Wyatt paused, almost in mid-step. “Wow."

  Dave grinned at him. “Then ask him about the sex."

  "I promise you, that's what I mean by ‘play.'” Wyatt winked and left, whistling.

  Des stood up, smiling and shaking his head. “So, it looks like two successful dates."

  "Thank goodness.” Dave waited for Des to come to him and then kissed him, not rushing. “Thank you. I'd love to read to you again sometime soon."

  "We'll plan something.” Des kissed him once more and then walked with him down the stairs, and out to his truck. “I like this very much. Spending time with you, knowing that Wyatt and Archer are both comfortable—not only with you and I seeing each other, but with each other. I know that the four of us are not about to start making any long term plans but I want you to know what I think, where I stand. What I want. I like this. I like you. I'd like to keep going."

  Dave nodded, standing by the truck. He could hear the sincerity in Des’ voice and read it in his eyes, in the way he held himself. “I wish I could be as well spoken,” he said slowly. “And maybe someday I will be. For now, though, just know that I respect you and I want to be with you."

  "I couldn't ask for anything more. I wouldn't ask for anything more."

  Dave knew that was the truth as well, so he told Des his own truth with another kiss and then got in his truck and drove home, happy enough that he didn't even play the radio; someone else's emotions, filtered through song, would only muddy the contentment of his heart.

  * * * *

  "Babe? You with me?"

  "Right here.” Dave gave Archie a curious look. “It's a small truck, really. I couldn't get far."

  "I meant mentally.” Archie laughed the same super-indulgent laugh he'd had all weekend. It turned out that kinky bondage sex made him a kitten for days afterwards. “You've been gazing out the window and thinking hard since even before we got in the truck. That's a mean feat, so I'm just wondering what's up."

  Dave looked out the window again as they stopped at a traffic light. It was just after six in the morning, the sun barely up, and traffic was light. Across the street, a small grocery store was closed, but employees were going in a side door, getting ready for work. Dave and Archie were on their way to work, too, hoping to finish salvaging on the third floor of the inn and then start gutting.

  The light changed and Archie eased the truck across the intersection, and Dave blinked. He'd been sitting there not speaking for two minutes. “God, sorry. I don't think I'm all the way awake yet."

  "You were quiet all day yesterday, too,” Archie pointed out as he drove. “Is everything okay?"

  "Yeah, fine. Of course.” Dave smiled at him and reached across the truck to take his hand. “I've just been turning some stuff over in my head, is all."

  "I didn't smell anything burning.” Archie squeezed his fingers and took a right hand turn. “Speaking of burning, check this out.” He slowed the truck and pointed. “I want to take a look."

  "Oh, cool.” Dave studied the building as best he could from the truck and then piled out with Archie when they were parked. They were on a street of mixed residential and commercial buildings, lined with old growth trees and broad sidewalks. Everything was still and quiet in the early morning, not even a dog barking.

  It was an old fashioned fire house, broad and built of brick, two stories high on one half to accommodate the double garage doors. The stone arches over both doors were weathered and gray, but handsome under their sign that proudly proclaimed the station number in deep script. The rest of the building—what Dave assumed had been offices, classrooms or accommodations—was a mix of wood and stone, the same age as the rest.

  Archie walked up the wide stone steps to look in the windows, his hands cupped to the glass. “Hardwood floors,” he called back. “Long hallway."

  Dave nodded and walked all the way around, looking up the roofline and poking at the foundation. At first blush, it looked like a solid structure, economical in form and well built.

  He thought it was handsome, if a building could be described as such.

  Archie met him around the back, and they looked in the back windows at the garage bays, taking in the cabinets, the support posts, the bulletin boards that still had scraps of information tacked up on them.

  "It's zoned for residential and commercial,” Archie said quietly. “The new fire station is a few blocks away, over on Pond."

  Dave nodded. “It's really neat, Arch. Do you know how much they're asking?"

  Archie nodded and started to head back around the building. “Yeah. It's doable. I mean, I could move the shop into the garage, if I wanted to. Or I could keep the shop. Depends on how much I get for my apartment, how business stays. It'd be a big jump in my mortgage, no lie."

  Dave followed along, his hand brushing Archie's thigh as the thoughts he'd been mulling over tumbled one more time and slid into place. “Bet we could handle it together, though.” It would be cool, living in a fire house.

  It woul
d be awesome, living with Archie.

  Archie didn't look at him, but Dave could see him smile slightly. “Save on gas money?"

  "Save on lots of things. Money, time, groceries I usually just throw out. I think it's time, sweetheart. Time for moving forward and for saying those important words."

  Archie stopped walking and looked at him. “We always say the important words, babe. Always. Forever. Together."

  "I love you."

  Dave watched Archie's eyes light up in the sunshine of early morning and knew that everything was as it should be. A new home, new words to savor, and Archie with him, always. Some kisses were sweeter than others, and the kiss that started their new plans was like warm honey flowing through to Dave's bones.

  "I love you, too, Dave. Let's buy a fire station."

  Dave smiled and took Archie's hand as they walked back to the truck. “Yeah. Let's do that."

  * * *

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