Page 25 of Second Chances in Cedarwood

The next morning, Henry did as he’d said he would and helped at the shop. He’d also brought along his messenger bag and notebook. During the two p.m. slow-down, he took a break at one of the tables and jotted some thoughts in his notebook for the characters. His thoughts turned to the article idea. He’d received an email that morning from Remy Nicholas about writing for the paper writing about the people and places. The offer hadn’t been a lark. He’d apologized for Charlie’s zest in asking him to do the job. Remy wanted a weekly column featuring happenings around Cedarwood, observations, exciting stuff and pieces about the places in town.

“Henry?” Jack waved. “Help?”

Shit.He closed his notebook and shoved it into his bag, then dropped the bag off behind the counter. After washing his hands, he took his place at the register and jumped right in.

Henry stole glances at Jack. They shared smiles and warmth engulfed him. He felt like he belonged here. At the end of his shift, he headed to the bathroom. When he returned, Anna had left, and Jack stood at the cutting board.

“Wow. Everyone cleared out fast.” Henry slowed as he entered the dining room portion of the restaurant. “What’d I miss?”

“I’m trying not to be angry and jealous, but it’s hard when I see a call from another guy. Tell me it’s not what my mind is racing to believe. Please?” Jack asked. The muscle in his jaw twitched. “Tell me I’m making a mountain out of a molehill.”

“What? I get calls from lots of people, but there’s no one else but you in my life as my boyfriend.”

Jack pointed to Henry’s phone. “You got a call, then I got a call, too. What I learned is gnawing at me.”

“I get lots of calls.”So what?“I don’t understand. What did you learn? I don’t have any secrets.”

“Remy called me. He said you’re considering working for the newspaper and writing stories about the town. Is that why you came here? To get stories to print?” Jack’s eyes blazed. “Are you going to do it?”

“I hadn’t planned on writing for the paper.” He shrugged. “It’s an interesting concept, but it’s not something I want to do.”

“You’ve got notes in that book saying you’re spending your time here. There are little stories that are direct things you’ve heard here.”

“So?” He wanted the references, but he wasn’t going to use the actual stories. “I came here because of you.”

“Really?”

“Jesus, Jack. I’ve crushed on you since I came here the first time.” He sounded like a teenager.Oh well.“I wanted to spend time with you.”

“Or to listen to everyone tell their stories so you can use them?”

His stomach churned. The one thing he didn’t want to do was exactly what the paper expected. He hadn’t agreed to do the column. But Jack thought he had. “Jack.”

“I told you. I don’t want to be used. People come here to chatter, not have their dirty laundry aired.” Jack shook his head. “I thought you were different. I thought I could trust you, but I can’t.”

“I’m not using you.” He thanked God they were alone. He didn’t want everyone to see them arguing. He’d fallen for Jack and didn’t like fighting with him. Neither of them trusted each other, but they wanted to be together.God.They were so messed up. “But we’re both doing it.”

“What are you talking about?” Jack’s fury increased and he balled his hand on the cutting board.

“I jumped to conclusions yesterday, and you had to defuse me. Now you’re jumping to conclusions. You snooped in my notebook.” Henry put his hands up. “Hear me out. You got a phone call, then you looked in my notebook. Yes, I was offered a position at the paper and it would be a sweet job. It’d be easy. Just go around town and write about what I see. But I don’t want to. You think I’m going to write about everyone here? I’m not. There is a special relationship between a bartender, or in this case hot dog maker, and the patron. I can’t breach that. I won’t.”

Jack’s shoulders sank and his irritation melted. “Henry, we can’t do this to each other.”

“I know.” He rounded the counter and joined Jack at the cutting board. “We’re testing the boundaries. We’re still getting to know each other and we sort of jumped in faster than we planned.” He chuckled. “I needed to be sure you wanted me and I’ve done a strange job of showing it. I’ve been hurt before and couldn’t bear having it happen again. You’ve been hurt by guys who used you and you needed to test me.”

Jack smoothed the wrinkles in Henry’s shirt. “You got me. Dead to rights.”

“I enjoy writing here because I like the atmosphere. I like listening to you talk. Your interactions are funny, sweet and tender. You’re like a therapist for some of these people. A confessional,” Henry said. “And I’m enamored with you. You’re a dream to me because no one should be this great.”

“Henry.” He inched closer to Henry and loped his arm around Henry’s waist. “I feel ridiculous and stupid. I never should’ve nosed through your notebook.”

“You’re human.” He embraced Jack. “We have baggage and we’re getting through it. We’ll still be unpacking it ages from now, but if we’re patient with each other and ourselves, this will work.”

Jack nodded and rubbed his nose along Henry’s.

“I want to write and some of the people in town will probably find their way into my stories, but it’s for a novel. Jack, I’ve taken bits and pieces of Cedarwood, woven them together and turned them into my story. No one person from this town is a specific character.” He slid his hands into Jack’s back pockets. “There might be a hot shop owner, but that’s all you because I needed to write someone like you into my story.”

“Me?”

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