Page 14 of Second Chances in Cedarwood

Jack pushed his plate away and wiped his mouth. “Thanks for bringing over the taters and salad. It was all good.”

“Thanks.” He finished the last of his dinner, then matched Jack’s pose.

“You’re not chatty, but when I get you going, you don’t stop. Are you okay?”

“I’m a quiet person. I like to observe,” Henry said. “I learn a lot by just watching.” He shrugged. “For all the talking you do during the day, it’s all for orders and to say yes or no to the people ordering food. You seem to listen to all those stories.”

“No one wants an opinion when they can have a confessional instead.”

“Is that why you don’t talk about the people who come to the shop? You barely spoke when your ex was here,” Henry said. A touch of the jealousy came back.

“It’s easier with Dexter to let him talk than to argue or speak. If you speak up, he’ll argue louder and get angrier, so instead of escalating, I just let him go.” Jack fiddled with his napkin. “I didn’t think he’d show up. Normally, no one comes to visit me. Today, he showed up. I tried to call you, but you didn’t answer.”

“I was cooking.”

“Did him being here bother you?” Jack tipped his head. “I have friends and exes who sometimes drop by.”

“It doesn’t bother me.” Did his jealousy show? He knew he was fine enough as a person, but he’d never match the flash or the volume of Dexter.

Jack stared at him. “But?”

“But nothing.” He and Jack weren’t a couple. He had no reason to be jealous or to get angry. They had pasts.

“But what? I can tell you’re upset. You don’t like when you’re ignored?”

“No.” He should speak up. “I want whoever I’m with to be honest. If I’m acting like a dick, then tell me. If I’m making things tough, then say so. I might not enjoy what you have to say, but I respect being told. I respect honesty over silence.”

“I see.”

“You don’t like that.” He should’ve expected this—things were going too well.

“I never said that.”

“Then it’s my turn. But?” Henry asked. “I’m sure there’s more.”

“No buts. It’s nice to hear someone be so open. It’s refreshing.”

“You’re not upset?”

“Nope.” Jack reached across the table and held Henry’s hand. “I like it. I like you.”

“You do?” He hadn’t been sure.

“Yeah. You haven’t asked me to spill everyone’s secrets. You don’t treat me like I’m less than you because I have a shop. It’s nice. I’m respected and it’s good,” Jack said. “I haven’t had a date respect me in a long time.”

“That’s terrible. You deserve better,” Henry said. “I like you, too. I don’t know what you see in me, though. I have gray hair and I’ve got to have ten years on you.”

“Henry, I’m forty-five.” Jack rubbed the back of Henry’s hand. “Really.”

“No, you’re not.” He couldn’t be.

“Forty-five. You?” Jack narrowed his eyes. “I’d say…forty-six.”

“Forty-seven.”

“Then there we go. I have a thing for older men.” He rounded the table and sat beside Henry. “Stop worrying.” He kissed him. “Dexter and I broke up, and he’s with someone else. He didn’t want to be with a shop owner. Said I should’ve been a restaurateur, not someone who sells hotdogs. When I said get bent, he left.”

“Why would he come by?” He scooted close to Jack and rested his forehead against Jack’s and palmed his thigh. He liked the intimacy.

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