XOXO: A Bundle of Cozy Novellas

Chapter 3

THREE

John was back on his knees—a position he historically enjoyed, but not in this scenario, checking under Dumpsters in foul weather. An unfamiliar voice startled him from his brooding. The sound came from the other side of the container, near the alley door he had left propped open. Focused as he was on searching for the kitten, John hadn’t heard any approaching footsteps.

Dammit, he’d hoped the kitten would come inside on its own; another person was more than he wanted to deal with. Without the marquee turned on it seemed pretty obvious, to John at least, that the theater was closed. Why would anyone but him be back here in the alley? A chill ran down his spine. Was he about to get jumped? A bit hysterically, he wondered if his boxers were clean like his mother had always warned him they should be, just in case. But what hoodlum would call out a hello first? He was such an idiot.

After unsuccessfully searching the hallway and places the kitten could have gotten to inside, he’d come back outside to look more diligently, thinking he couldn’t see it because it was hiding under the other side of the container or something.

“Hello?” the voice repeated, coming closer. “Are you all right?”

A distinctly English accent, asking if he was okay—so he wasn’t about to be mugged and left for dead in a dark alley.

Carefully, John stood back from the trash container and turned to look over the top of it. It proved impossible for him not to stare at the handsome man waiting where he shouldn’t be. And, thankfully, he remembered taking a shower before leaving the house and putting on entirely clean clothing, including underwear, so he was good.

The stranger was backlit by security lights mounted on the opposite building, and John was standing a few feet away from him, but thanks to a trick of the light, John could see his features clear as a sunny day. If he hadn’t been recovering from a terrible breakup and off men almost entirely, he might have thought an angel had decided he deserved a gift.

“Is there something you need?” he asked, attempting to shove aside his immediate attraction to the dark-haired man standing in his alley.

The man contemplated John for a moment before replying, “No, I think I’ve found it. I may have something of yours, however.”

Lord save him, the man had a smooth, deep voice and an English accent.

From underneath a ridiculously puffy, bright-orange down jacket, the stranger produced the errant kitten. It was filthier than John had imagined, but a spark of relief flared when the grayish puffball with huge green eyes blinked and peered back at him. A man with a kitten, a sexy voice, and an accent: What was John supposed to do? Throw them both back out into the cold?

“Just a minute,” he said gruffly as he retrieved the last trash bag he’d brought out with him, dragging it past the kitten savior and heaving it into the container. When he turned back around, the stranger and the damn kitten were waiting for him just inside the doorway as if they belonged there.

Once inside, he shut the door behind him, throwing them into darkness.

“Shit, sorry. I forgot the lights were off.” Reaching out a hand, he found the other man’s arm. “Let me past you; we’ll go into the lobby.”

As John slid by the stranger in the narrow hallway, his treacherous body reacted like the man was water and John a divining rod. John slowed a step, aware of the heat radiating from the man’s body. That must have been it; it was cold in the alley, and John wasn’t wearing a coat. Come to think of it, it was cold in the theater too; he just hadn’t noticed or cared. The man smelled good as well, in a way that had John wanting to stop for just a moment before moving on.

Hadn’t he learned his lesson? John moved faster, berating himself for being an idiot.

He held the connecting door to the lobby open for the newcomers. The kitten didn’t look scared at all. In fact, the rotten thing looked smug, its green eyes watching John as he went around the concession counter trying to think what he had to feed the little beast or clean it up with.

“Why isn’t the theater open?”

The stranger looked around, taking in the piles of moving boxes, some filled, some waiting to be filled.

Rico, John reminded himself, Rico. He tried to bring up a visual of Rico: He’d had golden blond hair, right?

“The short answer is, I’m behind on payments and the bank is putting the property into foreclosure.”

“And the long story? Chance Allsop, by the way.”

“Oh, right.” John stuck out a hand. “John Hall, owner—for the moment—of the NorthStar.”

Chance Allsop shook it with the hand not holding the kitten. “And?”

“And what?” John dropped his hand, even though he was feeling envious of the grubby kitten. Chance’s hand had felt good in his, warm and solid. John tried not to think about being wrapped in safe arms, large hands loving him and making him feel again.

“The long story? Here, hold this for a moment.”

Chance handed John the kitten without waiting for a response, then took off his jacket and laid it across the counter. It was like watching a present unwrap itself. Chance was lean and fit, not in a muscly gym-rat kind of way, just a man who took care of himself. He was probably somewhere around John’s age, which meant there were lines on his face from laughter and sorrow; a small scar at the corner of his mouth; more than a little gray in his hair and stubble. He wore a cozy light-blue sweater and dark denim jeans with a pair of impractical leather shoes. Sexy as hell.

John looked away, trying to find something else to focus on, anything to keep from letting on that this man ticked all of John’s boxes. If Chance wasn’t gay, it might bother him, and if he was ... well, he was probably taken.

John was slightly taller than Chance, but where John was pasty white with boring sand-colored hair that instead of going gray had only faded with time, Chance had warm olive skin and incongruous blue eyes that were currently observing him with what appeared to be amusement.

John felt himself redden, and he hoped the dim lights of the lobby hid his reaction. He hadn’t managed to be subtle at all. On the plus side, it seemed Chance wasn’t thrown off by John’s perusal. Maybe he was gay, or bi? The spark of attraction flared, and John was unable to stomp it out.

He cleared his throat to help get the words out. “The long story is that my ex left a few months ago—which was probably good, except that he emptied all our accounts before he did, along with running up the credit cards in my name.” John shrugged. “It’s my own fault. I have terrible judgment.”

The kitten dug its tiny claws into his skin in response to the movement. John winced, and Chance reached out, reclaiming the beast.

“We’re probably both going to get fleas, or worse. It needs a bath.” John wrinkled his nose.

Chance tucked the little body between his forearm and body again. “With the exception of the bubonic plague, flea bites have never killed anyone.”

A laugh slipped out of John, the sound surprising him. It had been a long time since that had happened. Long before Rico’d left, the laughter and good times had been over. John just hadn’t wanted to admit it. Instead he’d hung on, hoping things would get better, ignoring the increasing signs of Rico’s unhappiness. Instead of letting him go gracefully. He shook his head. Rico was history, and John needed to quit reminding himself of him.

“Anyway, I’m packing up the place. Some dreams, you know,” he waved a hand, “aren’t meant to last. Since you asked, traditionally I’ve run a couple classics over the holiday, but not many people ever come, maybe ten or twenty if I’m lucky. Nobody’ll notice, or care. In fact, I probably won’t open again before the bank takes it back.” He shrugged again. “Sometimes life just isn’t so wonderful.”

“You can’t close down.” Chance sounded indignant.

John frowned. What did this guy know about running a theater ... or shutting down a dream? “Well, I can’t keep it open, so ...”

The kitten squirmed and meeped somewhat pathetically, although John thought he spotted a knowing gleam in its eyes.

“This little chap needs some attention. Is there a washroom?”

John motioned to the restroom sign behind Chance. Chance looked over his shoulder and back at John.

“Let’s wash him up a bit and then see if we can find something for him to eat. Is it possible you have something kitten friendly about?”

“I tried giving it some creamer earlier. I don’t know if it will eat that or not.”

“Ah right, you were already in rescue mode, and I interfered.”

John shrugged off the compliment and opened the restroom door. It was obvious the only way to get rid of the guy was to let him make sure the kitten was okay. Once that happened, he would get out of John’s hair. And John could quit thinking about him.