Top Shelf: A Seacroft Novel Page 13

  He was fishing for his keys when a slim man in a dark suit appeared from the shelves. Seb did a double take—it was Martin. He had shed his usual oversized wardrobe somewhere between the cookbooks and the biographies. As he unlocked the door, he gave a shy smile that did things to Seb’s insides.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I saw you go out earlier, but it’s been so busy today. I thought I must have missed you when you came back.”

  “You look . . . ” Seb couldn’t find complementary words that wouldn’t sound like he was undressing Martin with his eyes.

  Even though that was exactly what he was doing.

  Martin grinned crookedly. “Penny lent it to me. It’s a good thing it fits, right?”

  It sure did fit right.

  “You look great,” was all he could manage. He pulled his cap off, sure his hair was mashed down underneath it.

  “You’re still coming tonight?” They hadn’t really talked about that, but Seb smiled at him, wishing desperately they had talked about a lot of things sooner so he could be the guy on Martin’s arm.

  “Yeah. I just have to go get changed.” He’d stolen the sweater underneath his jacket from Kenneth in college. The collar had holes, and the cuffs had given up their shape almost a decade ago.

  “Good.” Martin’s smile turned nervous. “I might need someone to carry me off the stage when I hyperventilate.”

  Seb put a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll do fine. It’s no scarier than talking to a lecture hall of students.”

  “Yeah, and I was never very comfortable with that either.”

  Seb took another step toward him, squeezing his hand. “You’ll be great!” He stared into Martin’s eyes, willing him to believe what Seb was saying. Martin blinked, lashes fluttering. His breath was shallow, and he licked his lips nervously.

  “So listen,” Seb said. “I have something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

  “Sure.” Seb watched Martin’s lips shape the word, and he wanted to kiss him. His jaw carried the barest hint of gold-brown fuzz. Seb wanted to run a finger along it. Maybe press that finger against Martin’s bottom lip.

  “You had a question?” Martin’s voice had gone low and soft.

  “Right. Yes.” Focusing on words was so hard. He shuffled forward another half step. Martin’s lips parted again, and he leaned forward slightly under Seb’s hand. The bright lights in the store seemed to dim, and Seb gasped as Martin’s fingers brushed against his hip, and Martin’s eyes flickered down toward Seb’s mouth.

  “Gentlemen, you’re blocking the door.” Carol Anne’s voice made Seb jump.

  Just like that, the spell under the twinkling lights from the bookshelves was broken. Martin hopped out of reach, a hand going to his mouth. The way his skin flushed made Seb want to haul him back and kiss him until he couldn’t breathe. Instead, he pasted on a smile and turned to find Carol Anne and Penny standing in the bookshop’s doorway. Their twin smirks said they knew exactly what they had interrupted.

  “You know, we really did a great job with this place. It’s so cozy and,” Penny shot a glance at Seb, “romantic.”

  Seb contemplated murder while Martin coughed uncomfortably behind him.

  Carol Anne blew her daughter a kiss. “Why thank you, honey. And you and Martin did an outstanding job of breaking him out of his secret bookstore identity into the next internet heartthrob. You shine up really good, Martin!” She slung an arm over Seb’s shoulders. “Doesn’t he?”

  Seb gave Martin another once over, unabashedly lingering on all the places the suit hugged his frame.

  “He really does.” His eyes met Martin’s, and he stared for longer than was strictly appropriate in mixed company, warming as Martin stared right back.

  “Should we give you two a minute?” Penny asked. Martin flushed and turned away, nervously playing with his tie. Seb held back the sigh that threatened to sail out of him. He smiled at Carol Anne.

  “I should go change,” he said and slipped away.

  13

  Martin had been a nervous wreck since Penny showed up mid-afternoon with a suit in a bag and a glint in her eye.

  “You’re representing the community. We can’t have you looking like you’re in need of a fundraiser yourself.”

  He swore his own clothes would work perfectly well, but Penny regarded his dress pants and collared shirt with an arched eyebrow. “Did you raid your big brother’s closet?”

  He protested, but she produced a full-length mirror out of seemingly nowhere and propped it up against a bookshelf. The reflection shocked Martin. When had he gotten so thin? The shirt that fit him six months earlier hung off his body, and the pants were baggy enough to be mistaken for pajamas.

  “I was sick,” he said to Penny’s reflection over his shoulder. “I didn’t realize I’d lost so much weight.”

  “Nothing to be ashamed of!” Penny held the dark suit up on its hanger. “But trust me when I say this will be a much better look for you.” The suit was her husband’s, but she’d said years of cooking diner food meant it didn’t fit him anymore.

  “I’m just glad someone can wear it,” she’d said, smoothing down his shoulders.

  Later, a nervous-looking music teacher shepherded the jazz trio into the store, clucking and bobbing while they set up. Her worries seemed to be completely unfounded, though. The trio struck up promptly at seven o’clock sharp with a mellow arrangement perfectly suited to the environment.

  Carol Anne did some shepherding of her own, leading Martin around the room to introduce him to people, mostly members of the organizing committee and the town council. Everyone seemed suitably impressed when Carol Anne gave them a little information on his background. Martin managed to keep from trembling too much as he shook hands with the apparent who’s who of Seacroft.

  Most interestingly, Seb seemed unable to take his eyes off Martin. Every time they happened to pass by, Seb gave him a smile, and his blue eyes darkened in an expression Martin hadn’t seen before. Seb often looked at him with curiosity, amusement, or sometimes pity, but this was new and intense.

  Martin’s speech was scheduled for eight o’clock. All he needed to do was thank everyone for coming, announce the amount of money raised so far, and remind everyone to bid on the silent auction. Then he had to introduce Mrs. Green—currently gliding through the space, shaking hands and blowing air kisses—and he would be safe.

  By seven forty-five, dread knotted his stomach. As he fiddled with the cuffs of his borrowed shirt, he told himself to get over it. He’d done this before. For years. And half the students in any given lecture hall hadn’t been interested in anything he had to say. The people here would indulge him at least. And if he blew it completely, he could hide out in Brian’s den or Seb’s apartment for the rest of his life.

  “You look like a man who could use a drink.” Seb appeared before him, holding two wine glasses.

  “Is it that obvious?” Martin took a glass and swallowed a big mouthful. The wine was red and a little more bitter than he usually liked, but any port in a storm, as it were.

  “Just think of it as completing the look. Besides, if you’ve got a glass when you make your speech, it will give you something to do with your hands.” Seb had changed into a checkered shirt and a paisley bowtie. He went to say something else, but Penny walked up to him, pulling a tall bearded man behind her.

  “Hey guys!” she said, smiling wide. “Tim wanted to say hi! Seb and Martin, this is Tim, my husband. Tim, this is Seb and Martin.” She said it like they were a unit. Batman and Robin. Sherlock and Watson. Seb and Martin.

  Tim shook their hands and smiled politely. He had the distinct look of an introvert being tugged along by his extroverted partner when he’d much rather be at home or back in his kitchen.

  “All set?” Penny asked.

  “As much as I’ll ever be.” Martin took another sip of his wine.

  “Just do what I do,” Tim said.

  “Picture everyone naked?” Penny laughed.
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  “No, muffin.” Tim laughed. “That’s what you do. Pick one person in the back of the crowd and pretend you’re only talking to them.”

  “I’ll be in the back,” Penny said. She wore a multitude of bracelets that jangled as she bobbed up and down in her high heels and party dress. “I’ll wave so you can see me.”

  Martin felt green around his edges as he walked up to the front of the room. He turned to face the group of milling attendees, chatting amongst themselves without seeming to notice him at all.

  “Good evening, everyone,” he said. The ambient noise didn’t change. This had been his least favorite part of teaching. Getting a room of flighty undergrads to settle was always a chore.

  He cleared his throat. “Good evening.”

  A few people glanced at him, but otherwise, there was no perceivable change.

  Behind him, a trumpet pealed. One of the musicians played a complicated fanfare that reverberated through the whole room. As the last note died, the bookshop went silent. The trumpeter gave Martin a wry salute and sat back down.

  Martin cleared his throat. “Good evening, everyone.”

  The crowd murmured “good evening” in response.

  “On behalf of Dog Ears Book Shop, the Seacroft Town Council, and the . . . ” He was distracted by movement at the back of the room as Penny flailed wildly against the wall. Her bracelets jingled, sounding not entirely unlike a Christmas tree falling over, with hundreds of tiny glass ornaments crashing to the floor. The commotion was enough that the next word out of his mouth evaporated and fear shivered down his spine. On behalf of the store, the council and the—who was the third group? Little fireworks of panic went off in his stomach. Someone stretched out to grasp Penny’s frantically waving hand and pull it back down. Martin followed the motion and found the white-blond outline of Seb’s head.

  Look at someone at the back of the room.

  “On behalf of Dog Ears, the town council,” he tried again, “and the Seacroft Blues Festival organizing committee, we’d like to thank you for coming tonight. This event could not be possible without the efforts of a few important people, who I would like to take a moment to thank.”

  By the time Mrs. Green joined him, he was weak and noodly.

  Martin made his way quietly along the side of the crowd. He detoured to the bar and took a glass of wine, then grabbed a second one in case Seb wanted it. The wine wobbled in the glasses as his hands shook, but when he arrived, Penny, Tim, and Seb greeted him with enthusiastic congratulations. Seb took the glass with a smile while Penny clapped Martin on the back.

  “Good job,” she hissed while Mrs. Green continued to speak. “You only looked like you were going to throw up twice.”

  Martin gave her a wobbly smile, then jumped as someone’s hand slipped into his.

  “You were great,” Seb said, twining his fingers around Martin’s.

  The event wrapped up a little before ten. The winner of the silent auction was a middle-aged man who seemed very excited to receive Seb’s donated piece, a carving from a children’s book. A number of illustrated cats peered out indignantly at the observer.

  Carol Anne refused to let Martin help them clean up, so he found himself standing in the middle of the bookshop a bit awkwardly, unsure what to do. He was too awake and energized to go home, but there really wasn’t much going on in Seacroft on a Thursday night.

  “Can I talk to you for a minute?” Seb appeared at his shoulder. His bow tie was undone, and the top button of his shirt was open.

  “I think you already are.” Martin grinned. Seb gave him a wink, then turned up the nearest aisle and made his way to the back of the shop. Martin followed him, winding their way up the stairs to the apartment.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” Seb asked.

  “Just a water.” He’d had a couple glasses of wine. He wasn’t drunk by any means, just in the warm soft moment where everything was relaxed.

  Seb brought over two glasses and handed one to Martin, then sank onto the couch. Martin joined him, perching on the edge of the cushion.

  “Cheers.” Seb held up his cup, and Martin clinked his own against it.

  Seb took a long swallow from his glass before he set it down. “We get along pretty well, don’t we?”

  Martin smiled at the remembered warmth of their hands linked together. “I think so.”

  Seb picked at a piece of lint on his knee. “You know I don’t get along with my family.”

  Martin blinked. Where did Seb’s family fit into this conversation?

  “You’ve mentioned it.”

  Seb took Martin’s hand in his again, tracing little circles around the palm. His lashes were as pale as the rest of him, fluttering down as he followed the movement of his thumb.

  “There’s a party at my parents’ place next weekend. It’s my grandmother’s birthday, an overnight thing. First a dinner with my family, then a party the next day.”

  “Sounds fancy.”

  “You don’t know the half of it. My sister is planning it, so it’s going to make this event tonight look like a backwoods picnic. There will be more food and more booze than an entire village could eat in a month.”

  “And you’re going to go?”

  “I need a date.”

  Martin gaped.

  “Wanna go?” Seb ran his free hand through his hair.

  “Me?” Martin’s heart picked up, harder than when he’d been about to make his speech.

  “Yeah.” Seb nodded. “Honestly, you’ll fit in better than I ever have. You can talk to my dad about symposiums and humanistic theory and whatever crap it is that you people talk about when you get together.”

  Martin cast his eyes to the ground. So much for that idea.

  But Seb squeezed Martin’s hand, making him look up again.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. What you do isn’t crap. It’s kind of cool, actually, and I can tell it’s important to you. My dad, though—It’s complicated.” Seb eyes were soft. “Please? Come for the weekend?”

  Martin was a fool. An idiot ten ways from Sunday and—He sighed. “Okay. I’ll talk to Mrs. Green about getting next weekend off.”

  Seb smiled widely at him. Martin was going to lead himself to his own slaughter, but somehow, he couldn’t stop.

  He gave Seb a short smile. “I should head home.” He turned to leave but was pulled off balance as Seb tugged him back toward the couch.

  Their kiss was a collision. Martin stumbled, and Seb caught him, pulling Martin into his lap. Seb angled his head so that their lips fit together more closely. He tasted like wine, bitter and sweet, and his lips were as smooth as Martin imagined. Seb’s free hand slid around him, under the suit jacket, and the warmth of his palm spread under Martin’s shirt.

  Martin leaned into him, letting his hand come to rest on Seb’s ribs, feeling the breathing body underneath. Seb’s breath on his cheek made him tremble.

  Seb pulled away before the kiss could get too heated. He grinned and nipped at Martin’s chin, making him shiver. He nuzzled at Seb’s cheek, trying to find something to ground himself.

  “I’ve been wanting to do that all night. For weeks, in fact.” Seb kissed him again. Martin shuddered under his lips, as Seb’s words swirled something complicated inside him. Joy. Relief. A puff of need that curled around his heart like smoke before sliding lower.

  “I’m glad you took the initiative.” Martin’s breathing slowed until it synced with Seb’s, calming him further.

  “Can I ask another favor?” Seb’s voice was low in Martin’s ear.

  “Yes.” Martin’s own voice was hoarser than he’d expected.

  Seb rubbed their cheeks together before biting gently on Martin’s earlobe. “Ask Penny if you can borrow this suit again next weekend. I love looking at you in it.”

  14

  The following weekend, Martin pulled his duffle and the hanging bag with the borrowed suit in it out toward the front door. The late October wind rippled around his ankles
as he stepped outside. Movement caught his attention, and he turned to find Brian hunched over a sheet of paper. He wore only a gray T-shirt. Martin was cold looking at him.

  “Bit late in the season to be out here without a jacket,” he said.

  Brian’s mouth twisted into an angry sneer. “Thanks, Smarts. Did they teach that to you in your master’s program, or did you have to get the PhD to figure that out?”

  Martin squared his shoulders. Since the night Brian made dinner, things had been better, and Martin wasn’t going to start his weekend with a fight.

  “Seb should be here in a minute. Can I get you a coat?”

  Brian didn’t say anything. As Martin moved closer, he couldn’t help but read over his brother’s shoulder. The paper was an official-looking document with the words “Separation Agreement” written across the top in block letters.

  “Is that from Jess?” Martin slid onto the seat next to Brian, careful not to get too close.

  “No, it’s from the president. He wants me out of the country by midnight. Yes, it’s from Jess.” The paper fluttered in his shaking hands.

  “That looks serious.”

  “I didn’t think she’d actually do it.”

  Martin stared beyond the porch to the street in front of the house. When Brian and Jess had bought the place, Brian sent everyone he knew a picture of the two of them, standing proudly next to the SOLD sign on the front lawn. Martin was finishing the second year of his graduate program. He was living in a shoebox apartment and making most of his meals from a hot plate, and his big brother had seemed so settled. Brian and Jess’s beaming smiles looked happy and certain as they got ready to build a life together.

  “I know I haven’t been very . . . ” Martin tried to think of the right word, “available since I came here. You’ve done a lot more to support me than I have to support you. But if you ever want to talk about what happened, with you and Jess, I mean, you know I’ll listen.”