Page 2 of Trash and Treasure
Mico couldn’t see whether Jack was hard beneath his apron, but he doubted that his jeans hid his very interested dick.With my luck, he thinks I’m donut-sexual.
He tried not to picture licking the icing of Jack’s bare chest.
Mico ate the second donut slowly, repeating the performance. Jack seemed to enjoy the show, and if he hadn’t noticed that Mico had chubbed up in his jeans, then he hadn’t looked.
“Thank you. That was awesome,” Mico said, licking the last of the icing from his lips. “Was that your own recipe?”
Jack nodded. “I love making up new combinations. Tomorrow I’m going to make an apple-fritter donut batter topped with bourbon-root beer icing.” His love of baking shone in his eyes and lit up his face.
“Wow. That sounds really good,” Mico replied, impressed with Jack’s abilities. “I hope Sherrie appreciates your talents. We’re lucky to have you in Fox Hollow.”
Jack blushed and looked down self-consciously. “Sherrie and Nelson are great to work for. They were one of the reasons I wanted to come here. Bear Necessities has a reputation. I’m the lucky one to have gotten hired.”
“They’re good people,” Mico agreed, although he only knew both of the café owners to wave at them. “Glad you’re here.”
The phone in Jack’s apron pocket started to beep. “Oops—gotta go take another batch out of the oven,” he said, adorably flustered. “Glad you liked the donuts. See you tomorrow!”
Before Mico had time to react, Jack went jogging back toward the kitchen.
“Bye,” Mico murmured to the empty parking lot. He got back in the truck, aware of the scent of maple and bacon. Sticky fingers gave him all kinds of inappropriate thoughts, so he put the truck in gear and rumbled out of the back lot.
By the time Mico finished his shift, he couldn’t wait to take a shower and change out of his uniform. His used Grand Cherokee seemed small compared to the garbage truck, but it was big enough to carry a lot of cargo, and it would do well in the winter—a necessity here in the northern Adirondacks.
Before he could go home, he needed to take a run past the vacation houses and then make quick rounds at the dump. Tonight was garbage night, and the people who kept seasonal cottages here threw out all kinds of good stuff when the mood struck them. Mico had a couple of projects in mind, so when he saw an old stationary bike, a box of chipped and cracked brightly colored dishes, and a heap of rusted metal lawn spinners, he felt like he had hit the jackpot.
Even though items placed at the curb were legally fair game, Mico loaded his finds quickly in case anyone noticed and called the cops. He’d already explained himself to the sheriff and would rather not have to repeat that experience.
At the dump, he scored a broken wooden ladder, a half-dozen colored glass bottles of varying shapes and sizes, and an old aluminum fence gate.All in all, a good night. He finished stuffing everything into the back of his SUV while keeping a lookout for the bears that frequented the dump looking for tasty treats.
Come winter, driving home in the middle of the night might not be restful, depending on the ice and snow. But tonight, on the cusp of autumn, Mico enjoyed the stars and solitude.
I should ask Jack out on a date. We could go on a hike or take a canoe up the lake. It would be nice to get to talk to him without both of us having to get back to work.
Mico sighed.Or not. Maybe we could just go as friends. Sherrie probably wouldn’t have hired Jack if he wasn’t a shifter, but he’s guaranteed to be something more impressive. Bobcat? Fox? Doesn’t matter. I should settle for friends. Still better than nothing.
He pulled into the long driveway that led to his house. In the dark, he couldn’t see all the three-dimensional artwork he created out of “found” materials, except for the dozens of solar lanterns he had fashioned from old mason jars or pierced tin that hung from the low branches of the trees.
After Mico’s whole family had been killed in a misguided purge of “rabid” raccoons, he had taken the modest life insurance settlement and come to Fox Hollow, a town that welcomed shifters who didn’t fit in elsewhere.
He bought some land and built a small, comfortable house raised on stilts out in the woods—his version of a tree den. Mico had room for his work shed, where he kept the tools he used to create his art and plenty of room to display his sculptures.
My art. I need to keep my eyes on the prize. If I can make enough pieces, get into shows and galleries, set up an online store, that’s my dream. That’s who I really am.
Mico had been on his own for a couple of years. He’d made friends in Fox Hollow, and he liked it here. That didn’t keep the nights from getting lonely.
Give Jack a chance. You never know—it might work out,his raccoon urged.
And it might not,he argued.We can be friends. I can crush on him from a distance.
You’ll never know until you try.
What if he breaks my heart?
Then you have a mighty nice den for sulking. Give it a shot.
Mico unloaded his treasures, then went inside. He stripped off his uniform and let a hot shower sooth sore muscles and sluice away the day’s sweat. Once he had pulled on his favorite sleep pants, he made himself a sandwich and grabbed a beer.
Later that night, Mico fell into bed tired but not too exhausted to jerk off thinking about Jack.
