Page 9 of New Year
Zack pointed to the vent clip. “Caribbean breeze, or something. A friend of mine swears by them.”
“I never tried them.”
“I used to get the ones that had that new-car smell, so it never lost that scent while I drove it. Not that I used to drive cars for longer than two years.” And good God, that made him sound like some sort of rich prick, especially saying it to someone he’d just scooped up off the streets, who obviously didn’t own one car, much less regularly swapped them out for the newest model.
That’s not me anymore.
He got them on the road, but ended up confused by a series of one-way streets that Natty helped him navigate, until they were going the right way.
“You really aren’t used to this side of town, geez,” Natty said.
“I’m not used to Reynolds, in general. I’ve been here less than two months. Moved in April.”
“For the job at the restaurant?”
“That was half the reason. The other half is intensely personal.”
“Okay.”
Zack paused at a red light. Glanced over at Natty, who looked sharply away, as if he’d been staring at Zack. In profile, with yellowish streetlight on his face, Natty looked young, almost innocent, with a narrow nose and high cheekbones. Even with puffy lips and red-rimmed eyes, he was handsome in a boyish way.
And Zack really wanted to see Natty smile.
He pulled into the diner’s private lot, which had at least a dozen other cars, even this late on a Sunday. Natty used the vanity mirror to check his face, wincing when he touched the red scrape on his cheek. He caught Zack watching him and actually winked. “It’s not the worst I’ve looked this year.”
Zack shocked the hell out of himself by growling.
Natty’s lips twisted in a faint smile. “It was a work accident.” That smile disappeared. “Anyway, now that I can smell the food, I’m starving. Feed me, Seymour.”
Zack laughed, a little surprised someone Natty’s age knew that cultural reference. “My name is Zachary Matteson, but call me Zack.”
“Nathaniel Hawking, but my friends call me Nat. Right now, you can call me Nathaniel.”
“Fair. Nathaniel. Let’s eat.”
* * *
As a child, Nat had loved fairy tales. He loved the idea of the white knight or charming prince, coming in on his noble steed to rescue the princess in peril. He’d spent most of his childhood living his own version of Rapunzel’s life, trapped by his mother and her lies, unable to advocate for himself, or even to get help. He had to wait for his knight. His prince.
He did eventually escape that tower, but no knight ever came to save him. Nat fought his own battles, fell down over and over, and collected wounds along the way, but he never gave up. He never would give up. His life had been such an incredibly complex, traumatizing whirlwind this past year, and for a long moment in that alley, with the man with the garlic breath humping him against a brick wall, threatening to choke him with his cock once he’d fucked Nat’s ass raw… Nat knew he was going to die.
He’d die in that rank, damp, hot alley, because he was too fucking proud to ask for help in fixing the shithole his life had devolved into.
He wouldn’t go down easily, though, and he’d been prepared to fight the john to his last breath—and then a close, loud clang had nearly sent his heart through his chest. Streetlight glinted off the strands of silver in the stranger’s hair and the startling blue of his eyes, and he’d stood like a castle guard, angry and ready to do battle.
Nat hadn’t truly believed it was real, that someone had come to his rescue in the nick of time, until the john released him. His tall, gentle savior had knelt, been so kind, that Nat couldn’t control himself. He’d sobbed out his relief, his gratitude, and his fear in great, wrenching sobs that hadn’t lasted long, but they’d left his throat sore and his head pounding.
And now his white knight, his charming prince, had carried him off to a celebratory feast at a late-night diner. Zack Matteson. Older man, gorgeous, possibly wealthy, but the car made Nat wonder. Courageous for sure. And forgiving, if he wasn’t going to punish Nat for taking food from his restaurant.
Unless this is a ruse to relax you before he demands payment. Don’t let your guard down, idiot.
Nat was too exhausted, sore and hungry to care if he had to perform later. He’d done far worse for a payday, and he was no stranger to tricking out for a place to sleep.
The scents of meat, grease, and sugar assaulted him the moment Nat climbed out of Zack’s car. He brushed off his clothes as best he could and contemplated leaving his dirty hoodie in the car. But he couldn’t risk needing to run and being unable to retrieve it. It was hot, but it covered the deep, still healing bruises from his last night with Austin. Bruises could turn off potential johns.
Forget Austin. Enjoy the moment.
Easier said than done. That asshole haunted his nightmares.
