This man before me is like no other. I’m drawn to everything about him, and I am undoubtedly setting myself up for a huge fall because I don’t even know if he’s gay, and right now I couldn’t care less, so long as he’s here with me.
Macsen Evans is a salve to my bruised soul.
I let myself bask in him, unprepared to allow whatever is going on between us to end.
Moments pass in silence. Wine bottle now empty, both of us staring at the other without a hint of awkwardness.
I know he’s close on my six-foot-two frame, maybe an inch shorter. Studying all his features, I can see a golden ring around his pupil, which highlights the richness of his brown eyes, and the plump curve of his lower lip is made more delectable by the faint silvery scar beneath.
“I can’t stop looking at you.” Macsen’s words are low, almost whispered confession he never meant to say out loud.
They leave me breathless. I have no words in return. It’s as if he’s taken them all from me and rendered me mute.
It’s a strange feeling for me. I’m ever the pursuer, never bashful, always the one to make my intentions known.
“I’m sorry. That was too honest of me. I shouldn’t—”
“I like the way you look at me.” A hoarse confession of my own. “And I don’t know what the hell is going on here, but I like looking at you, too.” He smiles at my admission, and that warmth in my belly begins to spread. “This”—I wave a hand between us— “has never happened to me before. Would it be too honest to admit that I should be freaking out, but I’m not?”
“It’s the wine.” His eyes sparkle with mirth.
“No,” I bark out a laugh. “I don’t think we’ve had enough wine.”
“Me either.”
“Maybe we should have some more.”
That damn smile again. “I’d like that.”
Macsen Evans has the ability to make me fall.
His smile should be outlawed or, at the very least, come with a warning. One crook of his lips and he could get me to do anything.
One more smile from him and I won’t even feel the impact as I hurtle towards the ground.
And I’m not half as scared as I should be.
Chapter 5
Macsen
Ellis leaves for a few moments to get another bottle of wine from the bar, and I spend those few minutes alone in a haze of want and desire and need.
Listening to the lyrical quality of his deep, softly accented voice, hearing all about the years we’ve been apart, and getting to know who he is now only made the connection between us tug and pull until I ached with it.
When he returns, we settle straight back into conversation about everything and anything. From the typical discussions about the books and movies we enjoy, to our childhood and schooling.
I am enraptured by him. He’s everything I remember and more.
Smart, funny, self-deprecating, insightful, and so bloody beautiful, it’s hard not to reach out and touch him.
I want to run my fingertips over the strong arch of his eyebrows, touch the soft skin at the nape of his neck, link my fingers through his to feel the rough calluses on his palms, and trace the crease of his smile with my lips.
“Are you close to your family?” I blink at his next question, and he senses my hesitation, only it isn’t for any reason he would deduce.
“I was, very. My father passed away a few years ago, and my mother died when I was a child.”
I want to tell him that he was there and held me when I cried for her. I was six, and like most boys that age, my mother was my world. Her sudden death had devastated me. He’d stayed with me for weeks afterwards, never leaving my side, promising he’d never let me go. I want to give him those memories back. Want to tell him how much it meant to me to have someone to hold onto when I felt so lost and alone. But it isn’t time for that yet, so I hold onto the vow I made him all those years ago. A promise to make him remember everything—to make him remember us.
It’s one I will keep, no matter the cost.
“And your father never got remarried?”
I shake my head, a smile lingering on my lips at the recollection of my father’s words whenever someone would ask him why he never opened himself up to love again.
“No. He said my mother’s light was too bright to be dimmed, even if she was no longer with him. That there was only her for him, and he was content with that.”
“And you don’t have any siblings? Cousins?”
“Only child. As were both my parents. It’s why we were such a tight unit. We didn’t have a big extended family. You?”
“Lots and lots of cousins,” Ellis replies with an exaggerated eye roll. “You met one tonight. Iris.”
“Yes, she mentioned her hotshot chef cousin within minutes of taking my order. Said he owned the best restaurant for miles around.”
“I train my staff and family well.” He nods proudly.
“That you do,” I reply with a warm chuckle. “It must be nice to have that kind of support.”
He looks pensive for a moment, his eyes drifting from mine to the half-empty glass in his hands.
“Wouldn’t be where I am now without it. Wouldn’t be here now without it.”
The weight of his words isn’t lost on me. I feel the heaviness of their truth deep in my gut.
“I’m glad you are.”
His eyes lift and find mine, an unspoken question on his lips.
“Here, now,” I clarify. “My father was right, some lights should not, and can never be dimmed.”
I let him stare at me without response, needing him to see for himself what we could once again share. Hoping he heard my words for what they were—the truth.
With an almost imperceptible nod, he searches my face before placing his now empty glass on the table and making a show of looking at his watch.
“It’s late, and I don’t know about you, but I have to get up and do all this again tomorrow. Saturday is the busiest day of the week for us. I should, uh”—his gaze flicks briefly around the room before landing back on my face—“let you get some rest.”
As much as I don’t want to, it’s time to let him go.
Tonight has been more than I could’ve wished for, but the intensity of feeling between us may scare him off, and I can’t risk that.
“Thank you.” I hope the sincerity of my words carries. “For tonight.” He stares at me for a beat, his eyes searching mine. He looks unsure of something, but I see the moment he’s about to say his goodbyes and I stop him with, “I’d like to repay you somehow, maybe lunch or drinks the next time you’re free?” I can’t let him leave without knowing I’ll get to spend more time with him.
He hesitates. his mouth twitching with a likely refusal, but then something passes over his features, and he clears his throat.
“Having someone else make my lunch sounds great. I can play hooky Monday, maybe? I know a great place down on the harbour that makes the best fresh crab rolls.”
“Perfect.” I don’t even attempt to hide my smile. I want him to know that I’ll be counting every second until then.