Page 1 of Tempting Sebastian

Chapter 1

Jackson

Oakville, Massachusetts

My eyes popped open the same way they did every morning, out of instinct, to watch my back. The room was mostly dark, only lightly lit by the bathroom and hallway lights shining on the other guys, still asleep in their beds. It was just enough light for me to sleep but still be able to see if someone was up to something. I glanced around to make sure no one had stolen anything from me. Everything seemed fine, so I yawned quietly and stretched. The sun hadn’t come up yet, but I liked waking up early enough to get ready in silence before leaving for work. A moment of peace was needed after a rough sleep, every night. I had almost saved up enough money to leave the shelter, for good.

Reaching under my bed, I grabbed my toiletry kit and walked the ten steps it took to get to the bathroom mirror and sink to wash up and brush my teeth. The mirror was filthy with ascattered layer of tarnish over it. Your guess was as good as mine as to what was on it, but I couldn’t clean it off no matter how hard I scrubbed. Another perk of the shelter. I could see myself just enough to know I looked presentable, and it beat the street by a few miles. Giving up on the mirror, I decided I would fix any remaining stray hairs by using my camera phone once I got on the city bus.

Back at the bed, I reached under the mattress for the garment bag that held my suit. Laying it between the mattress and the springs kept it flat and mostly wrinkle-free. It was the best I could do without an iron or closet space. The warmth of my body would be enough to release the rest of the wrinkles, anyway. After I put my suit on, I rolled up the garment bag and shoved it inside my backpack, along with the clothes I had changed out of, and my toiletry bag.

No one ever asked or wondered why I brought a backpack to work because almost everyone either had a purse, backpack, or some sort of sling bag they carried their things in. They would just store it under their cubicle desk for the day, same as me, thankfully. I took a final look back at my bed, knowing it would probably go to someone else by the time I came back from work. First come, first serve is the shelter policy. I’d probably be able to find another bed there, but it wouldn’t be that one. Nowhere ever really felt like home. I let out a sigh and headed downstairs to walk the block it took to get to the city bus stop.

I’ve been working at Moore & Holbrook Antiques for six years. It started as Moore Antiques by Sebastian Moore. His business partner and best friend, Ian Holbrook, is my supervisor. The name was changed to Moore & Holbrook after Ian joined as a business partner. The company started as a small antiques acquisition company, but then grew with Ian’s help and restoration was added to the services. Most of their business now deals with old furniture they buy, restore, and then turn andsell it and make a decent profit. That’s where I come in. I handle all of the calls that come in from people looking to sell their antiques to us and I make sure it’s something we’re interested in before passing the lead onto the next person, who is usually Ian.

The old city bus pulled up with a screech of the brakes, so I got on, paid my fare, and walked to the back to find a seat by the rear door. It wasn’t as crowded. After about ten minutes and three more stops, I got off and waved thank you to the driver. I looked up at the Moore and Holbrook sign, thankful for where I was in life, even if it wasn’t perfect, and went inside.

I had grown up in foster care, but when I turned eighteen, they cut me loose and I had nowhere to go. Since then, I’ve spent too many long nights sleeping in seedy shelters, under leaky, rain-washed bridges, creepy abandoned buildings, and wherever else I could find to rest my feet.

I’ve never met my parents, but I wonder about them a lot. They could have passed away for all I know. I’d been in foster care my whole life, shipped from one house to the next, some better than others, but most times, they were terrible. I was just another paycheck for them to cash. I wish I had gotten some of the money they received, but they never set any aside for me. I’ve been working since I was twelve. Legal? No, but there were people who knew me, knew I was a good kid, and that I just needed a little help. At twelve years old, a woman named Mrs. Rosatti who owned a local laundromat, let me work there folding the clothes that came out of the dryer. It didn’t pay much, but at twelve, I didn’t need much. The seventy-five dollars she paid me every week was enough for me to buy my school lunches, and get myself underwear, T-shirts, and socks if I needed them. Sometimes people wouldn’t pick up their laundry drop-off and after a while, they were donated. Mrs. Rosatti was a stickler about it because she only had so much room. Whenever that happened, she would let me go through the clothes before shedropped them to a donation center. I didn’t have anyone to open a bank account for me, so I saved by shoving money in an old cigar case that I had picked up at a yard sale for a quarter. Under the floorboard of my bed, I hid that little vault. It worked for me, and thankfully, no one ever found it.

I stayed working with Mrs. Rosatti until I turned fifteen and I was able to get a work permit. My next job was at Kmart, until it closed all of its stores, but it was a great place to work. I started out stocking shelves and working the cash register. By the time I turned eighteen, I’d been promoted to Service Desk Supervisor.

I worked hard, but I wanted something more exciting and interesting to me. When I turned nineteen, I found it in the front desk receptionist position with Moore Antiques. Sebastian Moore, himself, interviewed me. Sebastian was enigmatic and reserved. He gave nothing away and people knew very little about him. You could say he was even grumpy, most of the time. At least, that’s what I thought. He rarely smiled, didn’t crack jokes, didn’t hang out in the kitchen for lunch, or grab coffee with anyone. I didn’t know if he was married, gay, straight, or anything. He was just Sebastian. Beautiful, mysterious, grumpy Sebastian, and I had the biggest crush on him.

My interview was quick and polite, but to the point. Sebastian gestured towards an antique chair across the desk from his, and said, “Mr. Hall, come in, please.” I sat, while he looked at me inquisitively for a moment and added, “Thank you for taking the time to apply to Moore Antiques.” He was a little taller than me with dark chestnut hair and deep brown eyes. He was rubbing his chin through his short beard and from the way his muscles flexed beneath his shirt, I could tell he kept in good shape.

I imagined him working out before snapping out of my salivating mind and smiled awkwardly. Somehow, I regainedenough of my professional composure to say, “Thank you for your consideration. I appreciate the opportunity to interview.”

He nodded, but didn’t smile and said, “Tell me why you’d like to work here.” To the point.

Interview questions always seemed pretty much the same, no matter where you apply so I was prepared. I cleared my throat and opened up a bit. “I have what you might call an old soul. I appreciate the value and history behind an antique and want to know its story. Everything and everyone has a story. I love that your company saves these stories and gives them new lives. I want to be a part of that.”

Sebastian Moore hired me on the spot, and I’ve been their receptionist ever since. Every day afterward, I’m the first one in the building, turning everything on, and watching the small but mighty staff file in. I say good morning to everyone, including Sebastian, and every day he would just nod his head, with his hand wrapped around the strap of his backpack, and veer left towards his office without saying a word.

The store had grown enough and become well known enough around Oakville that Sebastian and Ian no longer need to be front and center on the sales floor all the time. In fact, I rarely saw him throughout the day, but when I did, my stomach tied itself in knots. I tried to find any reason to speak to him, anyway.

Once I was inside, I set my bag down under my desk, set up the phone to remove the after-hours message, and prepared for everyone to start walking in. I love my job and it’s been the one stable thing in my life. It also pays well, and I was looking forward to finally being able to get a small apartment somewhere. After five years working there, you’d think I would be on my own, but a roommate of mine ended up being a bum who opened credit cards under my name and ran them up without ever making a payment. It destroyed my credit. I probably could’ve filed charges or something, but I just wantedhim out of my life and never wanted to see him again. So, I’d spent years saving, making payments, and staying in shelters to save more money and repair my credit. I wanted to get a car after I got into an apartment, but that was less of a necessity thanks to the city bus.

As everyone clocked into work, we exchanged good mornings and hellos along the way. Ian Holbrook walked in and said, “Jacky boy! How goes it?”

“Not too bad, Mr. Holbrook. Ready for another exciting week,” I said enthusiastically and with a smile.

“Jackson, you’re always so happy. We’re lucky to have you here.” He saluted me and went on his way. Ian was the goof to Sebastian’s uptight persona. Carefree, and while you’d think I would’ve been attracted to that; I was much more interested in Mr. Serious.

As Ian walked away, my head turned toward the front door to watch Sebastian walk in. I sat up straight and smiled at him. “Good morning, Mr. Moore. It’s great to see you.”

Like every other day, Sebastian nodded and turned toward his office. The man was such a mystery. All I wanted to do was crack the ice around his heart and be someone that could make him smile. Someone had to. Why couldn’t it be me?

Chapter 2

Sebastian

I sat at my desk and stared out the window, resting my hands over my head. Jackson Hall smiled too much; he was always smiling. I leaned back in my chair and exhaled. What was there to smile about on a Monday morning? The guy got under my skin, and I couldn’t figure out why.

Coffee, I needed coffee,I thought. Everything was screaming that it was a Monday. After a failed attempt to get coffee at one of my favorite coffee shops because they were dealing with plumbing problems, I was left empty handed. I didn’t care much for Starbucks and honestly, I’m probably in the minority that thinks their coffee is trash.

I went to the kitchen hoping someone had started a pot. Of course, When I walked in, Jackson was standing there making a pot. I could tell that I startled him because he jumped and grabbed his chest. I quickly apologized. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

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