Page 2 of Second Chances in Cedarwood

Talk about a lot to superimpose on someone.Henry might not be interested in being all those things. Might not want to be any of them.

Jack focused on grilling hot dogs for the two-thirty rush and did his best to ignore Henry.

Why focus on what might not even be possible? Because sometimes the impossible did happen.

Henry opened his notebook, but kept an eye on the crowd. If a few people wanted tables and needed his, he’d leave. He didn’t want to prevent Jack from keeping the patrons happy. He liked the atmosphere at the shop. The Hot Dog Shop was a local watering hole. A gathering place for the folks of Cedarwood to grab a quick bite to eat while discussing the news of the day as they waited.

He liked the look of the metal signs and the simple quality to the restaurant. He got the feeling he belonged there when he walked in. Other restaurants gave the feeling of wanting him there to fill a table for a little while. Jack made him want to come back and linger.

He jotted notes on the pages. His schedule dictated he write the short piece on country living by the end of the month. Easy, since it was only the fifteenth. But Cedarwood wasn’t exactly country living. The town had a slower sense about it, but it wasn’t small like some towns in Ohio. They had a baseball stadium and the theater had been revamped to show movies and for productions. There was now an entire restaurant row area and shops selling everything from knickknacks to books to fabric and home goods. There was even a little grocery store.

He finished adding notes, then stole a glance at Jack. He’d finally gotten the chance to speak to him.Hot damn.He wasn’t sure if Jack was attracted to him, but they’d spoken and he’d tried not to make a fool of himself. His ex-boyfriend would be proud. Tate had always said Henry didn’t know how to be smooth in public. He could narrate a travel video, but conversation was above Henry’s head. Maybe it was.

He wasn’t done talking to Jack, but he doubted Jack wanted him hanging around after the shop closed. He wasn’t hungry, but he needed a reason to talk to Jack. He’d have to order something to go and leave a note for him.

Henry ripped a page from his notebook and scrawled a few lines. His heart beat faster. He’d dated a little, but tended to keep his personal life very low profile. He didn’t want people to question him instead of taking his writing at face value.

Henry ordered a dog and fries combo with a soda to go, then handed Jack the note when he picked up the order.

“Thanks.” He smiled and heat filled his veins. Tension settled in his mind. When Jack grinned at him, he wanted to linger.

Henry forced himself to go, then once he’d walked over to the park in the center of town, he stopped moving.Holy shit.He’d made a move. Henry Lord, the man his friends voted most likely to be single forever, had sent a note and asked a guy to call him. He sat on one of the benches and sunshine warmed his face. Would Jack call? Or would he ignore the note? Was he even gay?Fuck.He hadn’t thought about that. Just because a guy smiled at him didn’t mean the object of his desire was gay…

Damn it.

Henry located another bench and escaped to the shade. He ate his dinner in silence. If he remembered right, there was supposed to be a concert tonight in the park, a quintet from the high school playing show tunes and movie songs. If he was lucky, Jack had seen his note, read it and might end up joining him. Or he’d made an ass of himself.

He finished his meal, then opened his notebook. Ideas for his novel flooded his mind. He’d visited enough places and written plenty of short pieces, but he’d always wanted to write a novel about a small town—an unremarkable place with remarkable characters. But he didn’t want to write just any book. He wanted to pen a mystery with a slice-of-life angle to it.

He’d worked out who some of the characters would be and the chronology of the story—so far he knew he wanted a murder to occur and where. He preferred to feature parts of Cedarwood in the story. He’d never had a hometown and had decided the moment he’d bought his condo that this was where he wanted to call home.

People gathered at the gazebo and conversation filled the air. The twinkle lights strung through the trees came on. Children ran around and someone blew bubbles. A few minutes later, the band assembled on the floor of the gazebo and music filtered over to him.

Henry wrote while he listened to the music. The songs inspired him and he could almost envision the soundtrack to the movie version of his book. Talk about wishful thinking—that his book would be good enough to be made into a movie. A man could dream.

“Hi.” Jack sat beside him. “It’s kind of strange to see you outside of the shop. Mind if I sit here?”

“Don’t mind at all.” He closed the notebook and tucked it into his messenger bag. “I’m glad you showed up. I wasn’t sure if you would.”

“I don’t pass up the chance to spend time with someone outside of work. I haven’t been invited to anything—not a date, coffee, to sit at the park, nothing—in over a year.” Jack leaned back in his seat and crossed his ankles. “I almost forgot what it’s like to be outside.”

“Fresh air is nice.” He shifted enough to look at Jack. Of all the things he’d learned while on his travels, it was to look the speaker in the eye. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“So am I.” Jack smiled. “You shocked me with that note. Anna thought you were trying to rob us, but you left and that sort of makes robbing us impossible.”

“Oh my. I just wanted to get together to talk.” He massaged his forehead. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. She’s got an overactive imagination.” Jack rested his arm across the back of the bench. “She’s good people, but she loves to pester me about finding a boyfriend.”

So heis gay? Good.“You’re not with someone? I know you mentioned you hadn’t been on a date in a while, but I thought you were speaking flippantly.”

Jack sighed. “I’m single because my last partner was jealous of the shop. He knew I worked a lot when we met. I came right out at the beginning and said, look, the shop is my livelihood and if I don’t show up—since there are only two employees—the place won’t open.”

“Makes sense.” He respected a man who made his own fortune.

“I thought about getting a dog. I’d like one, but it’s not fair to an animal to be left at home alone so much,” Jack said. “He’d get lonely.”

He nodded. He loved listening to people talk, but Jack had a lyrical quality to his voice. Henry barely heard the music. All he saw and heard was Jack.

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