Heartsville 01 - Bookmarked (Piper Vaughn) (6 page)

“I think dinner is still on the menu,” he said. “Maybe my apartment instead of Riverview? I’m not the greatest cook, but I can handle simple recipes. And I can give you something to change into.” Mark indicated Shepherd’s crotch with a vague wave of his hand.

The blush in Shepherd’s cheeks intensified, but he nodded, looking pleased.

“I’ll just go clean up in the restroom really quick, and then we can take off.” He went to brush by Shepherd, but Shepherd stopped him with a hand on his arm. Mark turned to him and received a light kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“Thank you,” Shepherd said, “for giving me another chance.” He released Mark and gave him a pat on the ass. “I’ll take care of the books.”

****

When they entered his apartment half an hour later, Mark experienced a flicker of worry about the sheer amount of Jack Drake paraphernalia decorating his living room walls. Then he shrugged it off. Hell, it wasn’t as if Shepherd didn’t already know he was a fan. No point in trying to hide it.

If Shepherd was surprised by the sight of the mounted, poster-sized book covers and the fan art Mark had purchased from various conventions, he didn’t show it. He surveyed the room unsmiling. That wasn’t unusual. Grumpy seemed to be Shepherd’s MO. Now that they’d talked a bit, Mark realized Shepherd was basically the human embodiment of that pissed-off-looking, Internet-famous cat. Her expression declared a death wish upon the world, but really, she only wanted a cuddle.

“Feel free to take a seat or wander around. Whichever.” Mark peeled off his windbreaker. The weather hadn’t gotten cold yet, but in this part of Illinois, one could never tell where the temperature might end up by nightfall. Since he only lived a few blocks from Bookmarked, he walked every day and brought the jacket with just in case. “I have beer and pop. Pick your poison.”

“Beer would be fine, thanks.”

Shepherd meandered over to one of the many bookcases Mark had squeezed into the small front room. Stacks of paperbacks and hardcovers filled every shelf from top to bottom, and not always in neat rows. With limited space, sometimes Mark had to get creative.

He grabbed a couple of pale ales out of the fridge and brought one to Shepherd. “I think I have the ingredients for spaghetti. Would that be okay?”

Shepherd turned to accept the bottle. “Sure. I’ll help.”

“Great. Let me get you something you can change into first.”

He led Shepherd to his bedroom and rifled in the top dresser drawer until he found what he was looking for. “These are brand-new.” Mark handed Shepherd a pair of bright purple briefs. “I buy them to wear for, um, special occasions, but there haven’t been many of those lately.”

Shepherd’s lips quirked. “Until tonight?”

Mark laughed. “Yeah, and then I wasn’t even wearing them. Go figure.” He pointed to a door right outside the bedroom. “Bathroom’s there. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

When Shepherd joined him a few minutes later, Mark had a pot of water heating and had taken out an onion and green pepper to spruce up the jarred sauce. The kitchen was tiny yet well equipped. Mark might not be a culinary master, but he enjoyed cooking, and since opening Bookmarked, he rarely had the funds for eating at restaurants. Over the last several years, he’d built up a collection of staple recipes and usually rotated through them every month.

Mark set Shepherd to chopping while he threw together ingredients for a salad. They chatted as they worked, sharing the occasional glance or touch to the hip as they moved around each other.

Not having had a steady boyfriend for so long, Mark had almost forgotten how much he enjoyed the simple pleasure of preparing a meal with another person. He’d expected some awkwardness at having a virtual stranger in his home, especially
this
particular stranger, but it felt familiar and easy, like sharing space with an old friend. The comfortable atmosphere relaxed Mark, and when they settled at the two-seater table with their food, the conversation continued without a hitch.

“We drew a winner for the raffle this morning,” Mark told Shepherd. “Luckily, it’s someone from Chicago. We offered to mail it, but they’re coming to pick it up tomorrow. Have you heard from any of the people who came to the signing?”

Shepherd nodded and swallowed his bite of spaghetti before speaking. “Yeah, a few people e-mailed me through the contact form on my website. I’m glad I did it. It was nerve-racking, but it seems like it made a lot of the fans happy. I’ll have to do another one eventually.”

“Well, Bookmarked’s doors are always open to you.”

Shepherd smiled, shy and sweet. “Thanks.”

“By the way, how is Brittany’s son?”

“He’s okay. It was a bad break. They’re going to be putting some pins in when the swelling goes down, but they think it’ll heal well once that’s done. He’ll probably be able to play football again.”

“That’s good news.” Mark hesitated, twirling some noodles around his fork. “You’re different than I thought you’d be.”

Shepherd’s expression shifted to remorse. “I didn’t give you the best of impressions. I don’t know why I react the way I do.” He shrugged. “I was always the quiet kid in school. Making friends just never came easy to me. If not for the Internet, I’d probably never talk to anyone. Getting out of the house and writing was actually Britt’s idea. She encouraged me, and I found Bookmarked and started going there. Then….”

Mark’s stomach dropped. “Then I got in your face and spoiled it for you.” He set down his fork and sighed.

“No.” Shepherd shook his head sharply. “That was all me. I should’ve just talked to you like a rational person. Instead, I panicked and humiliated myself.”

Mark reached across the table to cover his hand. “Well, we’re starting over, right? If I forgive you for being a jerk, will you forgive me for being pushy? And calling you a dick.”

Shepherd met his gaze, his eyes dark and warm. He turned his palm up and toyed with the bracelets on Mark’s wrist. “There’s nothing to forgive, but sure.”

Mark grinned at him, hoping to lighten the mood. “And my first question, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way….”

Shepherd arched his brows. “Yes?”

“I have to know, is Shepherd Knight your real name? I mean, I figured it must be with the phone listing, but….”

“It sounds fake, I know.” Shepherd laughed. “Maybe it wasn’t my smartest decision to use it instead of picking a pseudonym, but, yes, it’s real.” He lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “I guess I never really imagined the books would take off the way they did. The only good thing is I did all my stupid stuff before selfies and camera phones became so popular. There isn’t any dirt on me to dig up.” Shepherd’s crooked smile made Mark’s heartbeat stutter. “And besides, back then, I didn’t think privacy would ever become an issue. I just wanted to see my actual name on the covers.”

“Makes sense.” Mark allowed his grin to transform into a mischievous leer. Fortune favored the bold, or so he hoped. “I only asked because I wanted to make sure I’m yelling the right name the next time you make me come.”

Shepherd choked on a mouthful of lettuce. By the time he got the coughing under control, his eyes had watered, but he smiled gamely. “Well, then,” he said, “Mr. Knight will do.”

Six

Over the next two weeks, Mark spoke to Shepherd every day, either in person, on the phone, or through texts. They met for coffee a few times, cooked a couple of meals together, and Shepherd spent the night twice, leading to sloppy blowjobs, naked frotting, and getting each other off in all sorts of fun ways. Mark shivered whenever he remembered Shep’s skillful hands and wickedly talented mouth. But best of all, Shep started coming to Bookmarked to write again.

Business had picked up slightly, even on the weekdays. Using their social media accounts and posting fliers throughout the neighborhood, Mark began to implement some of his other ideas for the shop. He started up Board Game Night, which would be a regular event every other Thursday, if it garnered enough interest. Only a handful of people had shown up for the first one, but he hoped attendance would increase over time. He’d also contacted a critique group that had been meeting at the local library. He offered them a space to use without having to worry about volume control, and they’d taken him up on it. They would be meeting on the second floor where he promised to reserve them the biggest table on the last Wednesday of every month.

His largest project was planning a NaNoWriMo—National Novel Writing Month—kickoff party on October 31st. He was a member of the site from the times he’d tried and failed to produce a fifty-thousand-word novel in the month of November. He knew groups met up in every region and hoped to lure some into using Bookmarked as their writing space. Once again, he’d spoken to Aaron about providing refreshments. He’d be paying for the drinks and snacks using some of the money they’d collected from the raffles during the signings. The rest he’d donated to Reading Is Fundamental.

“There hasn’t been much response in the forums so far,” he said to Shepherd a week before Halloween. He was taking a break before Angie left for the night, and Shepherd didn’t seem to mind when Mark interrupted his writing to talk for a few minutes. “Hopefully some people will show up.”

Shepherd tilted his head in contemplation, his mouth pursed. “What if….” He drew in a slow breath. “What if I agree to be there? Maybe give a little motivational speech to whoever comes. I always take part in NaNoWriMo. It’s encouraging knowing so many other people are working on books too. Keeps me inspired.”

Mark blinked at him. “You would do that?”

“Yeah. I’m trying to put myself out there a bit more. When I first started, I had Tasha, my agent, make sure none of my contracts included public appearance clauses, but I know Compass would love for me to attend a couple of cons every year. This way, I’ll be helping you and myself at the same time. Baby steps, right?”

Mark couldn’t help it. He leaned forward and kissed him. Mark intended it to be a brief kiss, just a show of thanks, but as always, heat exploded between them. The next thing he knew, he was in Shepherd’s lap, tight fingers gripping his nape to hold his head still as Shepherd’s tongue owned his mouth.

A giggle broke them apart, and Mark looked up to see a pair of blushing teenage girls darting down the stairs. He groaned and rested his forehead against Shepherd’s. “You make me forget where I am. Good thing it wasn’t my father.”

Shepherd’s chest trembled as he laughed. “Good thing.”

“Are you still up for dinner at his place tomorrow? Is it too soon? The meet-the-parents thing?”

Shepherd leaned back to smile at him. “Well, I’ve already met him, so it’s kind of moot, don’t you think?”

Mark toyed with the V-neck of Shepherd’s sweater. “It’s different, though. You met him at the signing and you’ve seen him around the shop, but this… I can tell him no if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Shepherd squeezed him lightly. “I’m fine with it.”

“And tonight?”

“I’ll be at your apartment at ten.”

Mark grinned and kissed him again, keeping it quick. With regret, he slid from Shepherd’s lap. “Later, then. I’m going to send Angie home.”

“Later.”

****

That night, they snuggled up on Mark’s couch to marathon the first season of BBC One’s
Sherlock
, which Mark had been meaning to watch for ages. Before they started, he made a new post on the NaNoWriMo forum announcing that Shepherd Knight would be attending the kickoff party as the guest of honor. By the time they’d finished an episode, the thread had exploded with activity.

Head resting in Shepherd’s lap, Mark smiled up at him. “Thank you.”

Shepherd pulled Mark’s glasses free and leaned down to kiss him.

“Does your family live around here?” Mark asked once the kisses had slowed. Sherlock and Watson were temporarily forgotten.

“They have a house up north, near the border of Wisconsin, but they only spend half a year there. My father retired a few years ago. They stay in South Carolina for fall and winter.”

“Are you close to them?”

Shepherd shrugged. “We’re okay. We see each other once a month when they’re here. I’m closer to Ava, my sister. We’re only two years apart.”

That reminded Mark. None of the biographies in Shepherd’s books had ever listed his age, and he’d always been curious. “How old are you exactly?”

“Thirty-five.” Shepherd gave him a considering look. “And you’re… twenty-six? Twenty-seven?”

“Close. I’m twenty-eight.”

“Good. I’m not robbing the cradle, then.”

Mark chuckled. “Not even remotely. So does Ava live here too?”

Shepherd shook his head. “She’s living in Nebraska right now. Her husband’s in the army. But we talk a couple of times a week. I’ll introduce you next time she comes for a visit.” He tugged lightly at Mark’s short hair. “Do you have any siblings?”

“No. It’s just me and my dad.”

“What about your mom?”

“She left when I was a kid.”

Shepherd’s forehead creased. He curled his fingers against Mark’s scalp, massaging gently. “I’m sorry.”