One
Spencer
“We’re gonna be late for our shift, Spencer, if we don’t get going. Besides, the mall is closing, and here comes that goddamn security guard again,” Brent fussed, but Spencer ignored his best friend as he craned his head toward Burbank Jewelers.
“I just wanna see if the bracelet is still there.”
Brent rolled his green eyes. “Of course it’s still there. No one has that kind of money for a damn bracelet. I don’t even know how Burbank Jewelers stays in business here. It’s always empty in there, but I bet they do a shit ton of international sales. Like that salon around the corner with the three-hundred-dollar facials.”
Spencer had already veered in the direction of the jewelry shop when Brent realized he was walking alone and rambling to himself. Spencer passed by the elaborate Christmas setup, complete with a fifteen-foot tree, where parents had stood in line with snotty-nosed kids for hours just for a thirty-second photo op with a fake Santa. He almost wanted to kick the oversized ornaments decorating the mall floor, but he refrained as he nodded politely to the security officer when he walked past. It wasn’t quite nine yet, and since they’d finally shut off that old-ass version of “Sleigh Ride” blasting from the overhead system, he could hear himself think.
He’d tried to get into a better mood while his friend dragged him around the mall to shop for the perfect gift for his partner, not wanting to piss on anyone else’s happiness. But the term “misery loved company” was resonating deep within him. He hated this time of year—Christmas was Spencer’s least favorite holiday. All he wanted to do was stay home and fuck around on the Grinches Only Facebook group he’d started three years ago. He had no parents, no siblings, no family, no boyfriend… at least not for some time. But he did have almost ten thousand members, so maybe that was something. He’d sooner celebrate National Bird Day than get excited over the season of cheer and good tidings.
“Spencer, come on, man. You know how grumpy Mr. Belvedere’s gonna be if we’re not on time.”
Spencer rolled his eyes. Mr. Belvedere was the nickname they rightfully gave their pompous, stuck-up boss, who believed being prepared and prompt was the trait of a real gentleman. “We’ll be on time,” Spencer murmured as his eyes adjusted to the warm, ambient lighting of the jewelry store while he stood in front of one of the display counters.
“Great. Why don’t you just go to the bank tomorrow and take out a loan the size of Egypt to buy that thing, then you can stop gawking at it every time we come here,” Brent said, now standing beside him with his Macy’s bag slung over his right shoulder.
Spencer ran the tip of his finger over the pristine glass. If only they had a layaway plan or something.
“We’re just about to close, sir,” a tall man said, coming around the corner from what Spencer assumed was the back of the store. He was older, but handsome with a thick head of dark red hair and graying temples. “Were you picking up an order or wanting assistance with a new purchase?”
Before Spencer could respond, Brent gripped his elbow and tugged him backward. “No, he was just leaving.”
Brent locked his knees and glared at his friend over his shoulder. “Actually, no, I was just checking out the bracelet with the onyx and marble stone beads and the literary owl.”
The salesman nodded at the piece of jewelry as if he was also admiring the way the stark midnight beads shone against the pearl velvet casing. He removed it from the display and carefully laid it on a small piece of white leather padding on top of the counter. “That’s an amazing bracelet. It’s from our men’s literary collection. Maybe you can come back after the holiday and we can get you fitted for one.”
Very smooth. Spencer swallowed thickly, wishing he had time to try it on for the fifth time just to see it against his pale skin, but the mall lights were already dimming, and he and Brent were coming dangerously close to being late for their shift. “Maybe,” Spencer whispered.
“Do you guys have a New Year’s sale coming up where this might be half off or something?” Brent asked seriously. However, the salesman appeared insulted.
“No,” the man said. “No upcoming sales. I’m sorry.”
Spencer could see he was anything but sorry. It was closing time, and the man probably hadn’t made one cent in commission all day with an attitude like that. “I like owls, and my mom loved them. Both of my parents were writers, and I’m studying to be one too. Do you think you’ll be getting any new pieces soon? Maybe some in sterling silver instead of white gold?”
“Not that I know of,” the salesman said blandly as he relocked the case since it was obvious Spencer wouldn’t be buying anything. “I wish you luck with your studies.”
“Sure.” Spencer nodded. Brent nudged him in the back, but his feet felt glued to the carpet. One day he’d come back and this bracelet would be gone, sold to someone who didn’t know its true value and meaning.
“What do you write?” a smooth voice said from behind them, catching Spencer off guard. It appeared to be another salesman, but this one carried himself slightly different than the man in front of him, who was still attempting to usher them toward the front door.
“He writes science fiction, some of the best I’ve ever read, and I don’t read,” Brent said boldly. “His mom and dad wrote the famous—”
“Brent,” Spencer bit out, then subtly shook his head. He didn’t like to discuss his parents because that would require him to recognize the massive void in his life. And he wasn’t in the mood to do that on Christmas Eve. “We better get going.”
“Certainly not before you purchase your bracelet,” the man said, walking behind the counter, his gait confident, his sexy smirk even more so. His suit was black pinstripes, and while Spencer was rarely impressed with well-dressed men, this one seemed to have the most alluring brown eyes he’d ever seen. Like the color of baked honey. “Season’s greetings to you.”
And then he had to go and say that bullshit. Spencer frowned, then turned his gaze back to the bracelet that felt tailor-made for him. Damn the holidays. If this guy was in such a festive mood, then how come the store wasn’t having a sale like everyone else.
“Yeah, sure.” Spencer sighed and stared at the white-gold literary owl that separated the two different-colored beads that looked exactly like his parents’ series logo. But fuck, why did it have to cost half of his paycheck? “I was just perusing.”
“Perusing?” Brent scoffed. “You’ve been orgasming over this bracelet since you first saw it.”
“Cole, you don’t have to worry about this, I got it,” the first salesman said.
Cole put his hand up and gently touched the other man’s shoulder. “It’s fine, Gerald. Go ahead and finish closing up. I’ll help Mr.…”
Spencer stared for a second before he caught on and offered his name. “I’m Spencer Underwood. I’m also not trying to waste your time because I’m not buying anything tonight.”
“I’m not in a rush.” Cole cocked his head to the side, his eyes dropping to Spencer’s mouth before popping back up to meet his eyes.