Page 3 of Second Chances in Cedarwood

“I thought about redecorating my house, too, but I’d have to be there more than to sleep and sometimes eat and exercise.” Jack shook his head and snorted. “Isn’t that terrible? My ex would’ve said the reason I don’t commit to the dog or the decorating is because I hate handing over control. I won’t lie. I do have a specific way of doing things—I mean, my God, I’m forty-five and single. I live alone. Yeah, I do things my way. No one is there to argue with me.” He blushed. “I sound like an asshole, don’t I?”

“No.” Jack intrigued him. He didn’t talk about the people at the shop or the gossip he’d learned. Instead, he’d opened right up about himself. Henry rather liked the candidness.

“I’m doing all the talking.” Jack’s blush deepened. “What about you? What’s your story—besides what you’re always writing in those notebooks?”

“You want to know about me?” Most people wanted to know about where he’d gone, not about his life.

“I do.”

The tone of Jack’s voice rolled over Henry and sent a shiver down his spine. He wondered what Jack sound like during sex.Probably hot as hell.

“Henry? Are you okay?”

He gritted his teeth a moment.Shit.He’d been caught getting stuck in his thoughts. “Sorry. No one ever wants to know about me.”

“Why? Are you wanted in nine states?” Jack laughed. “Seriously?”

“No. As I said, I’m a travel writer. I write about the places I’ve visited and have a blog about what to eat when you’re in a specific place,” Henry said, “so people want to know about the places—not the visitor.”

“That’s harsh.”

“It’s lonely.” He’d never told anyone that, but Jack seemed genuinely interested. “I travel a lot, so relationships are hard. Most of the time, partners get left behind. It’s exciting to see the new places or to visit places I’ve been to and see how they’ve changed. But I’d also love to get a dog one day.”

“We should get a dog together,” Jack said. “It lives with you while I’m working and with me while you’re traveling.”

“Smart, unless you’re working while I’m traveling.”

“True.”

“I suppose I could take the dog with me. It’d probably be easier traveling with a canine than a human.” Henry smoothed the wrinkle in his shorts. “My last boyfriend left because he didn’t get to go on the trips with me. Said it wasn’t fair I could go all over and he had to stay home and work. But I was the one paying the bills.”

“Aren’t guys too much work?”

“Can be, but I still want to find someone.” He paused. “And, since I’m homosexual, I’m going to have to find a guy one of these days.”

“I hear you.” Jack laughed and, when he grabbed the back of the bench, brushed Henry’s shoulder. “We should do this more often.”

Tingles shot from Henry’s shoulder to his heart, then brain. “We should.” He had to answer with something intelligent. He withdrew his notebook and wrote his phone number on one of the pages, then tore the page out. “Call me.”

“Visit the shop.” Jack winked. “I need to go. I have to get up early to open in the morning.”

“Sure.”

Jack folded the page. “See you tomorrow?”

“Sure will.” He stood. He wasn’t sure what to do—shake hands? Hug him? Wave? He’d follow Jack’s lead.

Jack waved, then wandered off.

Henry sank onto the bench and blew out a ragged breath. He hadn’t thought he’d manage any one-on-one time with Jack. The man intrigued and excited him. He rather liked Jack’s pushiness. He wanted to see him again.

A hot dog, fries and soda sounded pretty darn good—tomorrow.

Chapter Two

Jack woke at five a.m. like he did every morning. He dressed in his jogging attire, did his stretches and hydrated before heading out to the sidewalk for his run. Four miles, rain or shine. He hated running in the rain and refused to run in the snow, but the gentle morning sunshine and coolness worked in his favor. His muscles ached in a good way and he felt refreshed—tired, but ready to handle the morning.

He returned home and showered, then dressed for the day. What did he have to do before he opened? Put in orders for low supplies and prep the workstation. He grabbed his tablet and tucked it into his briefcase bag—as Anna called it. The bag wasn’t quite a messenger version but built sort of like a briefcase with a shoulder strap.

---