The King of Halloween, page 9
Fuming, Adam glared at the sharp sticks laid out on the table. The mayor paced around, counting out the last few minutes. No one cared that he cheated. No one cared that everyone was conniving together to take away his crown.
Clenching his hand around a stick, Adam leaned over Raj’s body. His chest pushed on the soft back, all those muscles pinching his flesh to his ribs as he reached to stab an apple.
“What in the…?” Raj cried out.
Adam managed to impale three apples before he leaped back to his spot.
“Those are mine!”
“It’s payment for what you stole, with interest.”
“I didn’t steal anything. You stole from me first.” Raj lunged for the apples, but Adam managed to stick one in his crock pot.
Dangling the other two to the side, he snarled. “Like hell I did. You snuck in under my nose and took mine.”
“You’re not god’s gift to caramel apples,” Raj shouted. He dived down for the apple out of the crock pot. Adam tried to stop him, but Raj was quick. He grabbed onto the edge of the pot, causing the caramel to leap up the side until some slopped out.
Boiling in rage, Adam lunged for Raj’s pot of caramel. He pulled on it, trying to wrench it over to his side, but the plug caught. “I am the Halloween king!” Adam screamed, giving one hard yank.
An extension cord ripped out of the wall, snaked its way around the table leg, and snagged. He kept pulling, not realizing how much danger he was in until the whole thing buckled. The first table crashed to the ground. People shrieked, trying to catch it, but it was too late. Their crock pot flew, turning twenty pounds of ceramic and boiling sugar into a cannonball. It landed dead center on Raj’s table, crumpling it. All of his finished apples tumbled off, rolling through the muddy ground.
Panting, Adam tried to get a grip on things, but the crock pot he stole was still in play. The caramel leaped into the air. His eyes went wide as he watched it arc toward his hapless mother. “Mom!” he cried, diving to get her out of the way.
She stepped to the side even as he was falling, arms splayed out. “Ahhh!” a voice screamed, and Raj slammed into him. Sticky caramel splattered both their bodies.
If he’d been smart, he would have aimed for the ground. But in his haste, Adam collapsed right onto his table. All of his apples flew backward, smashing into the food truck behind them until they became caramel applesauce.
Silence sliced through them. Panting and hugging the crock pot, Adam tried to flip over when he realized he was stuck. The caramel had glued Raj’s chest to his back. He peered over his shoulder into the most demented and gorgeous eyes he’d ever seen.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
In the moment, Raj thought it was a brilliant move. Tackling the man who had ripped away his caramel made sense, right up until he wound up on top of him, with steaming hot sugar quickly cooling between their bodies. Physics being what it was, he landed with his pecs pressing into another man’s shoulders and his hips digging into a tight ass. The pain of hitting the ground was nothing compared to the agony seeping through his bones. Embarrassment? Yes. Regret? Sure. But an insatiable hunger to run his palms below Adam and pull him tighter to their already stuck bodies besieged Raj’s mind.
“Mr. Choudhary?” Adam whispered, his voice straining.
“Yes?”
“Will you get off of me?”
The awkward struggle became a valiant one. Raj dug his palms into the dirt, trying to get leverage. He fought to peel himself off, but the caramel was hardening fast. Raj managed a few inches and slid his knees under him. Then Adam scrunched his abs, shoving his ass up. If Raj had been able to roll away, that ass would have found only thin air. Instead, Adam sat the whole curve of his bouncy buttocks in Raj’s lap. And there was a stirring.
Heat burst in his chest like a rising phoenix. He’s going to yell, and flail, and panic, and run away. Raj tried to still his cock before it did any more damage. Reaching for it was impossible. Moving would only make things worse. He chose to go stock still and wait for Adam to move.
He did. That soft, round curve rolled up the whole of Raj’s rising shaft. A strangled gulp slipped from his lips. “What…?” Raj stuttered, his brain broken while his body gave in to the feral pleasure of a man against him.
A hand wrapped around him.
At first, he assumed Adam was trying to push him off. But when the fingers brushed over Raj’s forearm, then clamped down, Raj’s hands slid forward. He did his best to not groan while children got their faces painted ten feet away.
“Whoa, what happened here?”
The sound of Logan turned Adam’s body as stiff as a board. He released Raj just as Logan’s face peered over the tipped table. “Need some help there, man?”
Raj scrambled, fighting to get himself off of Adam. He fought back twice as hard, nails digging into the table as they tried to pull apart—only to come slamming back together. Somehow, as they wormed their way to their feet, Adam managed to twist. The caramel stretched until Adam looked Raj right in the face.
Both men panted after that challenge. A wad of caramel stretched between them as they clung to the opposite side of the table. Their sugary bondage was broken, as were their egos.
Logan was the only one laughing. “Is this what small towns do in autumn?”
It was Adam who caught his breath first. He gave a snarl at Logan, “No. Usually, if I’m covered in sticky goo and clinging to a man…” He leveled his gaze right at Raj. “…I enjoy it.”
You didn’t object to my cock between your asscheeks.
Every year of his life taught him to only think that cutting remark, but his tongue thundered to unleash it. To point out that if being under him was so horrific, why did Adam grab his arms? Why did he grind back as if they were about to strip and make better use of that caramel?
“Hey, man?” Logan dropped an arm over Raj’s shoulder and stared at him from the side. “You okay?”
He couldn’t trust himself to speak and just nodded. Everything was peaches and cream.
Damn it. Why did I think of cream?
People were finally coming to and rising from the wreckage. He caught the other table trying to pick up their apples in the mud. People who’d been here to watch the spectacle ran up to either gather apples or nick them. A five-pound box of sprinkles had exploded, covering the dirt in a mess of purple, green, and orange. The mayor paced back and forth, both hands clamped to his ears. “Who is responsible for this disaster?” he cried out.
Adam and Raj looked at each other, their eyes flared, and they shouted at the same time. “He is!”
“Me?” Adam mocked.
“You ripped my crock pot out of the wall,” Raj stormed, squaring up.
Adam mimicked him, his legs wide. “After you stole my caramel.”
“Because you nicked my apples!”
“Those were my apples!”
A chest pushed into Raj’s, then a finger flew in his face. “They were mine, in my box, right there!” He tried to turn to point to where his station had been, but in their rage, the two of them had walked closer. Once again, the caramel ensnared them.
“Damn it.” Raj gritted his teeth and fought to escape. Clinging to the table wasn’t working.
“Oh, you fu…duging words I can’t say right now!” Adam cried out.
He didn’t have a choice. Looking past the man who was about to bite his head off, Raj dug his palm into Adam’s shoulder. The heavy groaning froze. Only quick breaths erupted from Adam as Raj pushed off of him to break free.
“I’ve almost…” Raj leaned back, certain he finally had it.
Out of nowhere, a knife flashed before his eyes. He yelped and almost went rushing back to Adam. Silver cut down, slicing apart the caramel bonds. They’d both been pulling so hard, they flew back. Adam slammed into his box of apples and fell on his ass. Raj landed on Logan, who was quick to catch him.
“Honestly!” an old lady huffed. She still held the knife in her hands as she glared at Raj, then her son. “You’re both acting like children.”
“I am not,” Adam said, and his mother stared at him. “That doesn’t count. He…” Whatever hate he intended to spit at Raj faded. Instead, Adam spun around and worked back to his feet.
“What are we going to do? These apples are ruined?” the mayor cried out.
“You can salvage most of them,” Adam said. He peered over at the ones he’d made, most of them smashed to pieces inside their cellophane. “Probably not those.”
“This is your doing, Stein!” The mayor jerked an accusing finger at his caramel-coated chest, and Adam shrugged it off. “Because of you, we can’t sell apples. The Halloween committee will go broke. We’ll have to cancel everything!”
“Please. This was what, maybe two percent of the budget. Just dip into the rainy day fund. You’ve got plenty shored up there.”
“That’s not what it’s for,” the mayor thundered to the masses fighting to rise. Many were glaring at Adam, sure, but quite a few cast the stink eye at the newest resident.
Damn it. All Raj wanted was to join in the fun. But he had to fall for Adam’s shit. So he’s made his own damn haunt, knowing it would kneecap ours. Ruin our opening days. Maybe even run us out of business…
Anger flared through his regret. The longer he stared at Adam, the hotter it burned. Grab that tousled, wild hair. Wrench his head back. Glare into those silvery-blue eyes, then kiss that smirk off his juicy, sculpted lips.
As if reading his mind, Adam tossed his head away from the mayor and stared right into Raj’s soul. He cocked his hip, daring him to do so much more than bite that smile. Kissing him wouldn’t banish that smirk. No, he’d keep it up, dare Raj to do more. But if he sucked that cock down his throat, Adam would fall apart at those tailored seams. For a brief moment, Adam’s eyes flickered down Raj’s body, and he bit his lip.
“I…” A panicked squeak broke through Raj’s wall.
Unfortunately, it was loud enough to catch everyone’s attention. “Mr. Chowdery?”
“I’ll buy them,” Raj said. “The broken apples. A donation to the town.” What am I saying? Literally anything so he didn’t have to explain what he’d really been thinking.
“Really?” the mayor exclaimed.
Raj smiled and nodded, reaching for his business checkbook. The mayor spun around, offering to let him write it on his back. Logan pressed in close to ask, “What are you doing?”
“Helping this town out of a jam,” Raj said and handed over three thousand dollars like it was nothing.
The mayor damn near bit the check before he folded and hid it in his jacket. “You are a saint, good sir. And you…” He spun on Adam, who tightened his crossed arms. “Young man, you are on thin ice. One more disaster like this, and we might have to rethink your honorary position in this town.”
Adam’s mouth dropped, his eyes on fire. “Are you serious? No.” He threw his hands up to wash them of the whole thing. “I’m returning to my store, that brings in tourists and taxes year-round. But please, keep kissing up to the man with a haunted hotel. I’m sure he can save you all.”
With that, Adam stomped away. As he went, he undid the buttons on his caramel-drenched vest, then threw the whole thing in the garbage. While it sank into the mess of ketchup-soaked napkins, he glared at Raj. “This isn’t over,” he mouthed and vanished into the crowd.
Raj slapped a hand to his chest, his heart pounding fast. He couldn’t afford to go another round with Adam Stein. But could he live with himself if he didn’t try?
The mayor corralled over a photographer, then stuck out his hand for a picture. Raj smiled and tried to reach out, but his palm was stuck in the caramel.
CHAPTER TEN
THE DOOR TO the bar that wore the cloak of being a hardware store blew open. Chatter started immediately from people dressed in the tourist garb of a Patagonia vest, hiking boots, and cargo pants. Adam tried to give a quick once-over out of curiosity when their agreement that the place was, in fact, a bar shifted.
“Holy shit, when that skinny guy screamed and ripped out the crock pot…”
Adam did his best to sink into his watered-down beer without catching any eyes.
“And that brown one slugged him in the chest. Then they both went down.”
“Bro, those apples slammed into that truck like brain-dead pigeons. I swear, I thought I was gonna shit myself. Hey, two Buds.”
Despite Adam’s best attempt to blend in with the furnishings, the younger and brash men stepped up to the bar and surrounded him.
“And I thought this thing was gonna be boring as shit. Only reason I came was to get something from Sherry.”
“Dude!” The second man turned to slug his mate in the arm for managing to turn love into a hostage negotiation. In doing so, his bag slammed Adam’s shoulder. He gulped at the contact. “Sorry, man.” First, he turned, then the other guy. “Wait. Aren’t you…?”
“Thanks for the drink,” Adam called to the bartender. He left half a glass behind and scurried off before the men tried to get him to relive his great humiliation. Slipping into the chilled air, he took in a breath, his head dizzy. In the distance, lights danced from the town square, and the local Hole in a Tombstone band played the Monster Mash.
Abandoning his drink to escape the attention of large men who use dude was old hat. He should be able to shake it off with a laugh, but the pain of a dull knife wedged itself between his ribs. Clutching his side, he hobbled down the street, doing his best to act like he didn’t keep glancing over his shoulder to make certain no one was following him.
Things were supposed to be different in New York. Sure, there were more opportunities for work and play, but somehow, the same dangers were there just in greater number and when he least expected it. There, he was always on edge, waiting for the wrong look or word to put him in the gutter. Here, he just had to be careful come tourist season.
The rest of the townsfolk humored the monster in their midst.
Walking the same streets he did as a kid didn’t make him feel young. If anything, it aged him a hundred years—his back aching, his head splitting, and his tongue dry. This was supposed to get easier, right? You were supposed to fall into adulthood like slipping into a warm bath. But every time he tried, the faucet broke, the stopper leaked, and the lights went out.
Of course, then he had to go and act like a teenager boiling in hormone soup whose only answer to finding a boy attractive was by hitting him. Or get stuck together in caramel until neither of them could move. He wasn’t imagining that cock that’d dug into his ass.
At first, Adam had panicked—flashing back to too many men who thought he’d like it if they just pushed harder. But the way he’d lingered, his cock pulsing and jerking as it came to life, filled his brain with the most dangerous thoughts. Running his fingers through the forest of curly hair shielding that shaft. Cupping his palm over the cock and sucking on the head while staring into his deep eyes. He hadn’t been able to reach for it, so his body did the next best thing and caressed Raj with his ass.
Dumb. Stupid. Probably harassment. And besides, he hated the man, so pointless. But…
Did he like it?
“Adam.”
At the scolding tone, he reached to tug down his vest, before remembering it was at the bottom of a trash can. Damn, he really liked that one. “Mom?” He pivoted his head, catching her running across the road to his side.
“Where have you been? The fireworks are about to start.”
After they’d finished cleaning up, his mother chose to stay for the rest of the festival. She had a few pies in the competition, after all. He’d chosen the saner path and escaped with his tail between his legs.
Peering over her cottony head, he tried to spy the grandstand where the mayor was about to push the button. “No thanks. I’d prefer to keep my head on my shoulders.”
“Don’t be silly. Mikey was just being spirited. You know how he gets.”
Despite her protestations, Adam knew the threat was real. The mayor put up with Adam because his store went with the holiday, and because he was willing to give his all for this town, for Halloween. But he found a new toy, one more willing to dance to his tune. After everything Adam did for Anoka—the nights he’d lose glueing eyes onto bags for Trick-or-Treaters, organizing masquerades that’d put the Twin Cities to shame—he was out. Maybe not officially, but he knew the fix was in.
So he could either stand there playing the stooge who smiled through the cross looks and whispers—or exit the stage. It wasn’t a hard choice.
“I need to return to my store,” he said.
“Don’t be silly. It can wait for a night,” his mom said.
“How’d the pie contest go?”
His mother’s always jubilant demeanor crashed. She didn’t let her smile dim, but her lips hardened and, through her teeth, she gritted two words, “Mary Anne.”
If Raj was to be his rival, then Miss Mary Anne Retton was hers. Every year, his mom tried to outdo the woman in everything from pies to quilts to canned tomatoes. If Anoka had a beatboxing competition, it’d be two old ladies going head to head in some decades-long war to best the other. Strangest of all, the rest of the year, they were good friends who played bridge and had coffee every Tuesday. He’d never understand it.
“Well, there’s always next year.”
She tipped her head, but smiled at his platitude. “What about that young man?”
Adam’s sure step crumbled. He tried to catch it before she noticed and asked with a shrug. “What man?”
“You know.”
“There are hundreds at the festival. I can’t know them all.”
“The one you got quite close to.” His mother gave a little giggle, and she pointed to Adam’s chest.
“I guess I let my competitiveness get the best of me. At least people can find my humiliation funny.”
“Oh, love, they’re not laughing at you.”
Those men in the bar told a different tale. It’s not the laughter that worries him…yet. There was a fine line between laughing at the monster and fearing it.
