Cross My Candy Heart, page 1
Table of Contents
A NineStar Press Publication
Cross My Candy Heart
Dedication
Cross My Candy Heart
About the Author
Connect with NineStar Press
A NineStar Press Publication
www.ninestarpress.com
Cross My Candy Heart
ISBN: 978-1-64890-733-3
© 2024 A.C. Thomas
Cover Art © 2024 Melody Pond
Edited by Elizabetta McKay
Published in February 2024 by NineStar Press, New Mexico, USA.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact NineStar Press at Contact@ninestarpress.com.
CONTENT WARNING:
This book contains sexually explicit content, which may only be suitable for mature readers.
Cross My Candy Heart
A.C. Thomas
For everyone who stuck by me when times were tough.
THE STARES STARTED in the parking garage and only got worse as he entered the lobby.
This latest assignment brought him to one of the four high-rise buildings that defined downtown Belleview, the biggest one, some financial firm. It stood out against the mountain landscape like alien architecture that had dropped from the sky, dark and shining and bleak beside the trees and mountains jagged with life.
Ignoring the gobsmacked expressions on the receptionists’ faces, he approached the front desk. “Hi, how you doing? I’m here to make a special delivery on the sixteenth floor.”
The older of the two receptionists shushed the other’s giggling as she dutifully tapped away at her computer. “Name?”
Out of habit, Justin almost glanced at a name badge he was no longer wearing. Instead, he passed along the crumpled order form in his sweaty gloved fist. “I represent Season’s Greetings, with a telegram delivery for Adam Hubert.”
She perked up immediately, taking in his work uniform with a slowly spreading grin. “Adam Hubert, up in IT? Oh, honey, wish I was coming with you. That’s gonna be a sight to see.”
Nothing in her words or her delivery inspired confidence. Oh well, some gigs were more difficult than others. Not everyone appreciated a personalized singing telegram. Justin had already run the gamut of reactions from delight to disgust, and now, he just wanted to get each assignment done so he could move on to the next. “Can you direct me to his office?”
“Says right there on your paper. Floor 16, room 319. I promise you’ll know him when you see him; he stands out around here. Not as much as you in that getup, but he’s never exactly blended in either. Big hulking guy, always wears a frown, nobody can get a smile out of him. Folks up on his floor call him ‘Lurch.’” She added that final aside in a stage whisper with a conspiratorial air that rubbed Justin the wrong way.
He retrieved his order form and stuffed it in his pocket. “That doesn’t seem like a very nice name to call somebody.”
“He’s not very popular. Alright, here’s your badge.” She slapped a little barcode sticker on his furry chest with uncalled-for glee. “That should let you in the right doors. Tell Charlene up in reception to call me when you get there. I wanna listen in.”
He left with a half-hearted wave, his boss’s ancient boom box weighing heavily in his hand. “Thanks.”
The building had two banks of elevators, and she pointed to the second, near the rear. Her and her coworker’s snickering followed Justin until the elevator doors slid shut behind him.
He’d barely been in the building ten minutes and had already cemented his resolve to never work in an office. He wasn’t built for it.
The fluorescent elevator lighting really brought out the polyester filaments of his fake fur gloves as he stared down at the stereo in his grasp. Last assignment of the day. He could do this.
Surprised gasps and giggles followed him down the corridor until he came upon a dark wood veneer office door labeled 319. It matched the order form.
Hubert, 319, extra-cute teddy bear romance package.
He knocked once, and then again, until a muffled grunt beckoned him in. Justin ignored the gathering crowd of office workers as he pushed the door open, clomped inside, and then shut it behind him to a chorus of disappointed groans. The bear shoes were surprisingly heavy and exactly as difficult to walk in as they looked.
A man sat behind an L-shaped desk with his back facing the door, dark head bent over a keyboard as he typed furiously and glanced between three imposing monitors. Justin skimmed over confounding rows of code on one screen and cleared his throat.
The man took his time to spin his chair around so slowly and ominously that Justin half expected to find a villainous cat in his lap as if he were in some 1960s spy film.
Instead, it was just a man.
A lot of man.
Wait.
Justin knew him: 7:15 Adam, extra-large Americano with a double shot of espresso. He came in at the same time every weekday and had ordered the same coffee for months now, like clockwork. Justin had secretly begun to look forward to 7:15, watching the hands of the vintage analog clock that hung over the door as the minutes ticked by. Adam was curt but courteous and, frankly, the best bit of eye candy Justin got to see all day. He liked a man built like a barn, and Adam was certainly that. Only that morning, Justin had passed over his coffee and thought to himself how those hands would make an excellent statement necklace around Justin’s neck.
If 7:15 Americano Adam was into that sort of thing, and if Justin went home with customers, which he didn’t. Ever.
Or any man, for that matter. He’d sworn them off, for a year at least. It would take him that long to work off the debt from his last failed relationship.
Which was precisely why he found himself standing before his secret coffee shop crush dressed as a giant, slightly mangy teddy bear, and holding a boom box.
Adam’s expression clearly reflected the absurdity of the picture Justin presented. At least he’d never recognize him with the bear head on. It was a small mercy, but Justin would take it.
“What do you want?” The office chair groaned with effort as Adam leaned back in it to arch one heavy brow at Justin.
Okay, so maybe work Adam was slightly less courteous than coffee shop Adam. Justin could hardly blame him. When faced with an unexpected musical bear, he might lose some manners himself.
Even seated, Adam was eye to eye with Justin. Or, well, with where Justin’s eyes were inside the suit. The bear’s eyes sat a little higher. Justin had to peer out through the thin black screen covering the nostrils.
It was a relief to have an excuse to stare at Adam without fear of getting caught. He really gave the phrase tall, dark, and handsome new meaning with all that wavy black hair. Some might argue over the handsomeness. Justin’s coworker, Cynthia, already had, but she only went for gym bros anyway. She couldn’t appreciate the beauty in asymmetry. The appeal of theatrical, exaggerated features.
Adam’s prominent brow overshadowed dark, displeased eyes set above an equally prominent nose. “Sculptural” was the word that came to mind. “Foreboding” was another.
Justin struggled to pull the order form from the pocket of his bear suit without dropping the boombox. “Mr. Hubert?”
Full lips curved into an instant frown. “No.”
“No? Dang, I never get these right. Can you direct me to Mr. Hubert’s desk, then?” Justin was surprisingly disappointed that Americano Adam wasn’t the intended recipient. As humiliating as it would have been to sing and dance for him, it was almost worth it to get the chance to keep observing him up close like this.
“No.” Adam turned back to his computer and resumed typing, hunched over his keyboard as if attempting to block Justin out with his massive shoulders. It was not unlike being dismissed by the mountain that overshadowed Belleview itself.
“That’s okay. I’ll go ask reception. Sorry to have bothered you, Mr.—?” He drifted off hopefully, waiting to obtain a last name for Americano Adam.
“Just leave.” Irritation underscored every syllable as Adam refused to turn away from his screens.
Alright, Justin could take a hint. He headed back to the corridor, nearly bowling over the tittering group of office workers hovering outside the door.
He dropped his boom box to hold the order form up beside the placket on the wall outside Adam’s office.
319.
He was in the right place. This was the correct office for the recipient. Justin wouldn’t get paid if he didn’t finish the assignment, and he really needed that paycheck. There was nothing for it but to push through. Besides, the heavy shoulders of his teddy bear suit support harness were starting to chafe through his cheap T-shirt.
Whispers resumed among the office crowd as he entered the office once again and carefully set down the boom box to close the door.
To his surprise, Adam was right there when he turned back around. Justin squeaked as Adam reached out and snagged the pink bow tie of his bear suit, hauling him up onto his toes.
“Who sent you?”
There was probably something worth examining abo
“Season’s Greetings Singing Telegrams LLC. Your gift is our song?”
Not exactly his finest moment or bravest tone of voice. He’d save those for a time when he wasn’t being manhandled in a teddy bear suit. For now, his panicked warble would have to suffice.
Adam let him down slowly and released the bow tie after Justin’s padded heels hit the floor again. “Are you asking me? Is that a question? Season’s greetings—what does that even mean?”
It was only four in the afternoon, and it had already been a long day. Justin was ready to turn in his two weeks, but it was ramping up to Valentine’s Day, and business was hopping for singing telegrams. He needed the extra boost this month. If he could stick it out, he might be able to afford the down payment on that loft apartment. He was getting sick of crashing on his friends’ floors.
He adjusted the bow tie and spun the head around the right way so he could peer up at Adam through the nose screen again. “I’m not really involved in upper-level decision making. I’m wearing a teddy bear costume, man.”
The angry flush began to fade from Adam’s face, his skin glowing pale and flawless under the harsh office lighting but shadowed by the ever-present dark, heavy stubble Justin had long admired from behind the coffee counter. It gave Adam an air of rustic mountain man that Justin was an absolute fool over.
Maybe he’d had some formative experiences with observing the local lumberjacks at work as a youth. Very, very formative. He wondered if Adam wore any flannel when he was out of the office. And if he ever chopped firewood. Justin didn’t have a stove or a fireplace or anything, but he’d certainly be willing to watch the process.
“Who ordered the telegram?” Adam loomed over him, blissfully unaware of any firewood and/or lumberjack-related musings Justin might have. Good. Those were between him and his e-reader.
He scrambled for the order form. They weren’t really supposed to show recipients the form, but they also probably weren’t supposed to stare at them and think lumberjack thoughts, so in for a penny and all that. “Hold on, let me check. Order form says ‘anonymous.’ The company won’t even tell me who sent it. We get a lot of those.”
Adam inched closer and… Was it very unhinged that Justin fervently wished he wasn’t wearing a giant bear head specifically so he could find out how Adam smelled? That was normal, right? Everyone probably felt that way. Universal experience.
He swallowed another squeak as Adam scowled down at him, arms tightly crossed over his chest, clearly repressing the urge to grab his suit again.
“So you’re some kind of proxy bullying company?” Adam said.
Of all the things he might have asked, Justin definitely wasn’t expecting that. He shoved the order form back in the pocket of his suit.
“What? Of course not. No, we mostly just help people make a grand gesture. You know, friends, family”—he took in the bulge of Adam’s biceps through his button-down, grateful for the concealment of his costume—“lovers?”
Of which Adam probably had dozens. Justin had never seen him come in the shop with anyone, but he obviously stopped by every morning on his way to work. His lovers were probably all still tucked up in his no doubt enormous bed, happy and exhausted.
He needed to stop before he got jealous of these fictional people in this fictional scenario. It was probably a symptom of his months-long, self-imposed celibacy that he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Adam’s bed was probably warm, too, with thick blankets to keep out the cold and a warm, broad chest to snuggle into and—
“Bullshit. I don’t know who sent you, but they’re no friend of mine.” There was nothing particularly warm or snuggly about Adam’s tone of voice at the moment, unfortunately.
Justin tried for a soft smile, though the effect was somewhat lost behind the frozen cartoon grin of the bear head. “Well, maybe they’d like to be.”
Adam shoved a hand through his hair, and Justin was only a little jealous that it fell back into perfectly tousled, effortless waves instead of frizzing up the way his would’ve done. “Or maybe they’re trying to torture me. Successfully.”
Torture was a little bit of a stretch. So, maybe this anonymous admirer hadn’t realized how much Adam wouldn’t appreciate a singing telegram. It was the thought that should count, right? He ought to appreciate that at least someone was thinking about him. Justin could disappear tomorrow and hardly anyone would notice.
He planted his paws on his hips and gave a muffled stomp with his thickly padded foot for emphasis. “Hey, my voice isn’t that bad! You haven’t even heard it yet. Maybe I’m the next big thing; you wouldn’t know.”
Finally, a hint of a smile flitted across Adam’s stony face. “The next big thing would never sing in a bear suit.”
It wasn’t as if he was wrong, but, ouch. This was not the day for Justin’s dignity.
“They would if they had bills to pay,” he grumbled as he reached for the neglected boombox. “Alright, I’m not paid by the hour, and I’ve got three more gigs after this, so take a deep breath because we’re doing this.”
“No, we aren’t. You’re leaving. Now.” Adam’s indignant growl was swiftly drowned out by the ancient piece of tech switching on with one swift smack of Justin’s paw.
He struck a pose when the music started, one hand over his heart and the other outstretched as he belted. “It had to be you—”
Adam backed into his rolling chair so hard it hit the opposite wall, aghast as if he’d never believed Justin might really start singing. “What the hell? I thought I told you—”
“It had to be you—” Now, both arms flung out as Justin took a controlled breath.
“—to leave already.” Adam shot a frantic glance over Justin’s head at the tightly closed and blinded window of his office.
Justin dropped to one knee, bear head tilted up as far as he could without overbalancing. “I’ve looked all around and—”
Panic crept in around the edges of Adam’s expression as he held out one massive, pleading hand. “No. Enough!”
“—finally found somebody who— Look, buddy, I’ve got to finish the song. It’s in my contract.” Justin wasn’t heartless. It was difficult to continue in the face of Adam’s obvious distress. Justin didn’t want to upset him; he just wanted to finish up and get out of his beautiful, lustrous hair.
Storm clouds chased away the panic as Adam dropped his hand to his side. “What did you just call me?”
Justin shifted the heft of his teddy bear costume with a handful of oversized pink bow tie, suppressing the urge to remove the head so he could wipe the sweat from his eyes. “Listen. I’m sorry, but I’m supposed to finish the song to complete your telegram.”
So maybe he could start to understand why Adam’s coworkers called him such an unpleasant name. He’d never met someone he would describe as looming before. Adam would fit right into the corners of a haunted house with his all black officewear and his dour expression.
The cheery Valentine’s atmosphere of the teddy bear romance package was not a great fit.
Adam interrupted his silent looming to reach past Justin and shut off the boom box accompaniment. “Pretty sure you’re not supposed to stop and talk either, but here you are. Talking.”
He was right. A flash of guilt warmed the back of Justin’s neck in the already over warm suit.
“Yeah, well it felt kinda rude to just keep singing over your cries for mercy.”
It was cute how rapidly that sent Adam over the edge, deep voice cracking. “I’m not— I didn’t cry! You— I’m sick of this. Can’t you just leave and tell whoever sent you that you did the job?”
“That would be dishonest.” Justin didn’t like lying. He wasn’t any good at it, and honesty always felt better. The truth was bound to come out in the end; he didn’t see the point in trying to hold it off.
He sighed as he mentally apologized to his boss for leaving this order incomplete. “I’m just trying to do a good job.”
