Nothing to Gain (Learning the Ropes #2) - E.M. Denning Page 0,16

Brett. Ansel made him a part of his family. In truth, he’d probably saved Brett’s life. He couldn’t imagine what his life might have been like were it not for his friend. It was part of the reason he still hadn’t gotten a place of his own.

“I know you want that for me,” Brett tapped his fingers on the side of his coffee cup. The chips in his red polish made him frown. He’d have to redo his nails before work. “But I’m fine without it. I have you and Eric and Caleb.” And Linden, he wanted to add, but didn’t.

“I have to get downstairs and open. Are you still okay to cover Thursday night so I can take off early?”

“Sure. Are you still coming home late?”

“I’ll be here Friday morning, in time to open.”

“Bring protection.” Brett waggled his eyebrows.

Ansel shook his head. “It’s not like that.” But despite his denial, the tips of his ears turned red.

“Well, if it is, tell him my nails are sharp enough to claw his eyes out if he fucks with you. Caleb has contacts at the Aquarium. I can turn him into shark bait.”

“That’s not a conversation I’m having. And wow, that’s pretty savage.”

Brett shrugged. “I’m only partly kidding.”

“You’re terrifying.” Ansel raked a hand through his hair and smoothed his shirt. “There, all ready for work. I’ll see you tonight?”

“I’m on the late shift, so I won’t be home for dinner. I’ll make you something though, and some lunches.”

“You’re the best.”

“I know.” Brett replied as Ansel disappeared through the door and went downstairs to open the store.

Brett got busy making lunches for Ansel, healthy ones with baked chicken breast and lots of vegetables. He tossed a simple soup together in the crock pot and left a note for Ansel, telling him when it would be ready.

If his sugar-addicted friend wanted his help to kick the habit, Brett would do it. Brett liked taking care of people. It made him feel like maybe he was deserving of all the help Ansel and his mom had given him over the years.

He’d help Ansel eat healthier. He’d help Linden embrace his feminine side. He’d help Eric at the cafe so he could spend more time with his husband. He’d pay back all the good Karma he’d received and maybe one day, life would do him a solid and give him a guy who cared about him enough to let him be himself. So far, he’d struck out in that department.

Part of him felt shitty for not warning Linden about how hard dating would be if he presented himself to the world the way Brett did. But he didn’t want to say anything to discourage him. Linden had done a good enough job of doing that all on his own, he didn’t need Brett’s help there.

Brett laid the cosmetics out on his dresser and took a picture. He sent it to Linden with a caption that asked him what he thought of the colors.

Linden didn’t respond right away, and Brett tried not to let that bother him. Linden was in school, probably in class. He had no reason to think Linden was brushing him off, it was only Brett’s stupid insecurity talking again. He shoved all those stupid thoughts aside and climbed into the shower so he could get ready for work.

8

Linden

Linden entered the thrift store and flicked the lock shut behind himself. He turned the sign to closed, as Brett had instructed him to do.

“Brett?”

Brett popped up from behind the counter. “Hi. I’m glad you could make it.”

Linden had thought of canceling, but every time he did, he thought back to that picture Brett sent and he couldn’t bring himself to back out. It wasn’t even about all Brett offered him. Not the makeup or the clothes. anyway. But Brett himself.

Linden was enamored with him. He was easily the most beautiful person he’d ever met. With his cupid's bow lips and his long, luxurious hair. But it was the generosity of his spirit that drew Linden in. He was confident in an out-there sort of way; he had to be, and it made Linden believe he could be like that one day.

His crush on Brett was downright embarrassing. He could barely muster the courage to greet him the way he greeted the rest of his friends, with a hug and sometimes a quick kiss on the cheek. His stomach often felt more like a hurricane than a gentle flutter when he did it, but he couldn’t