Page 40 of Sin Deep
“And what did they do for you?”
“When I was a kid, there was always a party. As a teenager, bonfires. After she remarried? Not a lot.”
Right. The preacher. He didn’t know yet whether Harley had left or was told to leave, but either way, getting out was the right answer. Coming to New York was a happy event; he hadn’t felt this alive in some time. “When is your birthday, petit? I want to be sure we celebrate. Tell me again how old will you be?”
“I’ll be twenty-five on March third, so…what? A little over two weeks?”
Twenty-five. Good lord. He remembered twenty-five; it wasn’t an easy or a happy time. But things got better. “Another excuse to celebrate! A spring baby.”
“Yep. That’s me. I loved having a birthday in the springtime when I was a kid—it’s a great time to have a party.” Harley chuckled softly. “And I like spring—when things start to grow.”
“Spring is nice here, so we’ll have to walk through the park a few times. It starts late… March is still cold and usually wet. Our spring doesn’t really start until April, but then things turn green again quickly.”
“I can’t wait to explore. I was having fun before, but now with you? I’m excited.”
Winter loved listening to Harley talk. He loved Harley’s energy and optimism. The boy was the best birthday gift he could have received, and more than he could have hoped for. He was also beautiful and curious and sexually adventurous…it was a dream come true, really.
A steak dinner was like a cherry on top of an enormous banana split. Almost too much.
“So what are you having?” He opened his menu and had a look, realizing with some embarrassment that Harley was likely to spend more than he made in a day on this dinner.
That was a dilemma, and he’d have to give some thought to before the check arrived.
“I want the sirloin and the baked potato. I looked at the appetizers, but I only knew shrimp cocktail, so you should choose what you want.” Harley chuckled and shook his head. “I’m not real knowledgeable about seafood yet.”
“Goodness, I won’t have room for an appetizer. But I’m going to have what you’re having. With sour cream. I love sour cream on my potatoes.” The steaks in places like this were big enough for three people. He’d be taking home a doggy bag as it was.
“Do you think it’s okay not to have a vegetable? I mean, we have cake at home.”
“It’s my birthday. We could have nothing but cake and that would be okay.” He laughed and set down his menu.
“Exceptional point.” Harley beamed at him. “You have to pick the wine, though.”
“I would be happy to pick the wine. Which is kind of a fruit, which is as good as a vegetable, so we’re covered.” He picked up the wine list, looking for something reasonably priced. He liked wine, but he wasn’t a connoisseur.
Their server appeared as soon as he put the list down and he ordered a decent red table wine, then gestured to Harley to order dinner.
“I’d like a medium sirloin and a baked potato, please, sir.” Harley seemed relaxed, easy in his skin.
“I’ll have the same, please. With a nice char. Extra sour cream.” He reached over the table and held his hand open, palm up, inviting Harley to take it. “Did you ever think when you moved up here that you’d be sitting here having dinner with an old man?”
“You’re not old. You’re beautiful. And no! I thought… Well, I didn’t think. I thought I had to get out, and this was a great opportunity.” Harley leaned in. “I never imagined I’d meet someone like you.”
“I know just what you mean.” He wondered if Jackson had expected Oliver to bring Harley by the club, or if that was something Oliver had planned on his own. He appreciated Harley’s compliment, and the best part was that he believed that Harley saw him that way. He still worried the shine would wear off eventually, but it wouldn’t tonight, and he planned to enjoy every second with the beautiful young man. “I’m glad you got out, and I’m happier that it brought you here.”
“Me too. So, what else do you want to do for your birthday, sir? Besides open your presents.”
That was easy. He knew precisely what he wanted. He lowered his voice with the hope that only Harley would hear. “I want to make love, petit. I want to feel you…inside.” At the boy’s wide-eyed look he added, “Only if that’s something you think you would enjoy, of course.”
“I want to. I think you’ll help me…figure it.” Harley’s voice went husky and rough.
He nodded. “I will. I’m patient. I’ll look after you, I promise.” One of the advantages of being his age over Harley’s was experience.
“I believe you, and you won’t hurt me. That’s not you.”
He squeezed Harley’s fingers. “Thank you, petit. That’s the kindest thing anyone has said to me in a long while.”
“Not enough people have been nice to you. That’s what I think.”
