“I have a couple of ideas for new cupcakes.”
“Wonderful. Tell me all about them tomorrow when I’m there.”
“I will.”
She turned on the step, which put her almost eye-to-eye with him, two steps lower.
“Quentin, I’ve been alive a long time. I have some friends and many acquaintances and few illusions about any of them. You are one of the finest people I know, deserving of every good thing this world has to offer. I want you to know that.”
No chance of holding back. The tears pushed out of his eyes, and he swiped at them before they could reach his cheek.
Her hand cupped his chin. “I want you to believe that.”
“Thank you.” But believing was even harder than making friends.
Chapter Five
MICAH STARED at the ceiling above his bed. The bed that smelled like sex and the subtle scent that was Quentin. Just another hour and he could give up on this god-awful night and try to create a better day. I’m an idiot! Worse than the worst thing people said about him.
He kicked the covers and thrashed his head on the pillow. How in hell could he have done that to Quentin? How could he have blamed Quentin for having a different lifestyle than he did? How could he have let someone that kind, gentle, beautiful, and sexy go because of some idiotic pseudoconvictions he’d adopted to try to stay alive in the face of his mother’s addictions?
Yes, he believed in the benefit of organic, raw food. But he also wanted to believe in being happy. In falling in love. If he didn’t get the organic, biodegradable stick out of his ass, he was going to lose the best thing that had ever happened to him. Quentin did it for him. No explaining it, but there it was.
He kicked again, and the covers slid off the side of the bed. Furtwangler sat up and stared at him. Shit. Get up and try to repair the damage you’ve done, idiot. His feet hit the floor.
Three excruciating hours later, he approached the cupcake store. Even at nine in the morning, a small line snaked out the door. He recognized Shelly Bloom, one of his customers. Just grin and bear it. He smiled and waved as he walked up to the door. The man in line about to walk into the store looked at Micah threateningly.
“Hi, I’m not buying. Don’t worry. I just need to talk to the owner.”
The guy frowned suspiciously but let Micah pass. He scooted into the store and looked around. The smell of sugar and flour assaulted his nose, and he shuddered. Still, it was a pretty place, with pictures of brilliantly colored cupcakes on the walls and masses of the real things lined up in a glass case facing the front. Customers filed past and pointed to the ones they wanted as two attractive young women filled cardboard containers with multiple cupcake orders. Micah noticed the stacks of cupcake containers were prominently marked “One hundred percent recycled material. Biodegradable.” Well, good.
The two women behind the counter worked briskly to meet the obvious demand. Two women, but no gorgeous man. Micah walked over so he was lined up with the door that led back into the baking area. He tried to peer in but couldn’t see much. Still, neither Quentin nor someone who looked like an older grandmother appeared to be back there. Damn, I have to find him. Who knew what he was thinking? Well, hell, Micah knew what Quentin was thinking. He was thinking that Micah was an ass and an asshole. Correctomundo.
Shit. He didn’t know where Quentin and his grandmother lived, and he felt pretty sure no one here was going to tell him. How could he find the man? Or the grandmother? Oh God, he didn’t want to use the phone. He really wanted to see him face-to-face.
Wait. Grandmother. She took yoga from Dharmaram the asshole, speaking of assholes. Micah glanced at the clock on the wall. One of Dharmaram’s beginner classes was going on right now. Maybe that was why she wasn’t in the shop? What were the chances? Hell, his only chance. If he failed, he’d have to call.
He rushed out of the store, waved again at Shelly, and broke into a run. The yoga studio was only about five blocks. He glanced at his watch, stumbled a half step, then kept on running. They’d be done in about five minutes.
Breathing hard, he approached the studio. A couple of people stood in the reception area. It might mean the class was over. He skidded to a stop and walked into the familiar building. Sure enough, students were gathering up their mats, but there were a number of older women in the group.
A cute girl walked by carrying her mat in a shoulder bag. He put out a hand. “Excuse me. Do you know a student named Mary Beth? She’d be an older lady.”
The girl grinned. “Well, I wouldn’t think of ‘older’ as Mary Beth’s prime characteristic, but she’s over there talking to that tall guy.”
“Thanks.” He walked into the practice room and looked at the woman standing on her mat chatting with a handsome white-haired man. Hell, if Micah had just used his eyes, he would have known her in a minute. She looked just like Quentin. Same fair hair, wide eyes, and pretty face.
He took a step and stopped. Dharmaram stood at the front of the class, presumably talking to a couple of students but actually staring over their heads at Micah.
The nasty smile on his face gave Micah the willies.
Micah breathed deeply and slowly. Okay, he really wanted this lady to like him—maybe then she’d tell him how to find Quentin—but he had to be careful. Just appear as a friend. Not look too desperate. After all, she thought her grandson was straight.
He approached her slowly with a smile. She glanced his way. “Excuse me, ma’am. May I speak with you for a second?”
“Of course.” She
