Play It Again, Charlie (17 page)

“It sure will,” she added, smiling once more, and Charlie suppressed the need to defend himself. Will lifted his head.

“Oh, it'll be beautiful. I'm good,” he said with attitude. Mrs. Brown's head went back. Charlie just narrowed his eyes. Will's hand stopped its twirling at that, and he bit at his lip again and practically whispered, “But thank you, Charlie.”

“Of course,” Charlie told Mrs. Brown, his voice deliberately flat, “none of that matters if they never get planted.” Will's eyes came up, his mouth already open for a reply.

“Oh my God! I wasn't kidding, you slave driver— ” He stopped dead and shot a wide-eyed look at Mrs. Brown. “I mean... .” Mrs. Brown just stared back at him for a moment, then shook her head for Charlie's benefit.

“You're a sweet boy,” she told Will, and she might as well have been calling him an idiot. Charlie coughed, unsuccessfully covering up the need to laugh, and she shook her head at him again and then stepped back. “I've got to get these bags in.” She moved pretty damn fast now that she could. Will turned that stunned look on Charlie and gasped in outrage when the coughing couldn't keep the smile from splitting Charlie's face. Will looked so wounded, his mouth hanging open, one hand at his chest.

“I don't... . I've never... .” Will pointed at him. “I blame this on you!”

“Me?” Charlie cleared his throat again, and Will's eyebrows flew up.

“You distracted me.” He put a gloved hand to his hair. There was quite a bit of dirt and sweat in it now, as though the past few minutes had been harder than the rest of his work. Charlie was fairly sweaty too, and regretted not putting on a sleeveless tee when he'd had the chance. But he had at least rolled up his sleeves, and he could feel a cool rush when the occasional breeze dried the perspiration there. There was an ache in his back from the digging, but overall his only complaints were being hot and tired. It wasn't entirely a bad feeling, but Will might need to stop. Not that Charlie minded Will dirty, or sweaty, or putting his foot in his mouth.

He had to straighten out his smile in order to sound serious. “Are you tired?” he asked, then nearly bit his tongue when Will's expression of outrage got more dramatic. “I am,” he added quickly, “and as soon as I clean this up, I'm done.”

“Oh.” Will shut his mouth and appeared mollified. “Okay. I only have three more to go.” He hesitated, then knelt back down over the flowers, talking to himself in indistinct, pissy murmurs.

Charlie swept a look over the line of Will's back, the flushed color of his skin, then made himself walk inside to get a trash bag for the rose clippings and dead flowers. He also grabbed the empty plastic cartons and pots on his way out, only leaving the ones still in use. He took his time, taking extra care with the thorns even with gloves on, and went slowly to and from the dumpsters, but Will was still bent over his flowers as he came back. Charlie paused, then stopped at his side.

Will wasn't planting anymore. He'd finished and was considering his handiwork. He twisted to look up, and Charlie could see the smudge across his nose.

“How's it look?” Will angled his head toward the flowers, and Charlie dragged his attention there.

“Fine.” It wouldn't take much effort to wipe the spot away or to sink his fingers into Will's hair. With Will in that position, he wouldn't need to stretch much. Damn, his throat was dry. He tried again. “Good.”

Will exhaled, disappointment flickering across his face. Charlie stepped closer, waving over the tops of the tallest flowers. “No, really.” He cleared his throat. “I can already see how it's going to look when they're all grown and flowering. This is more than I would have ever done. Thank you.” Nana would be pleased. “I'll send the owner a picture.”

“So it's not ‘your building’ after all,” Will commented, then he flapped a hand. He left it in the air when he was done, and Charlie reached down automatically to take it, bracing himself. With another soft, “Oh,” Will immediately pulled his hand back and pushed himself to his feet.

“Sorry.” He frowned. “Stop distracting me, Charlie.”

“Me?” Charlie said again. He almost put a hand to his chest a la Will. “I would have been fine.” He trailed off, looking over the courtyard as he stretched his back, feeling small twinges and then some pressure easing. Taking it slow had worked. “What did I do?”

The afternoon sun was warm, even mitigated by the slatted partial overhang. He reached up to rub at his neck, and Will sighed.

“Seriously distracting me,” he chided, eyebrows up as he made a long, careful study of Charlie's chest and arms as he stood there stretching, and Charlie paused without taking his hand down. Will licked at his lower lip, only to make a sour face and drop his leer. “My mouth tastes like dirt,” he remarked at that, and Charlie swallowed, or tried to.

“I could use a glass of water too.” His voice was a little rough. He quickly knelt down for the last of the empty flowerpots and instantly regretted moving so fast.

“Let me.” Will was fast suddenly and gathered them up over Charlie's objections. But he paused when Charlie told him they could be dealt with later and then deposited everything in the dirt under the roses next to Charlie's abandoned clippers.

Charlie stripped off his work gloves as he walked inside, not especially surprised when Will came in behind him and closed the door. Will's gloves joined Charlie's on the counter, and Charlie glanced at them while he got two glasses.

It was only tap water, but Will finished his glass by the time Charlie had filled his own and then came over next to him by the sink to fill his again. Will must have absorbed the sunshine. Charlie could feel it radiating from him, so hot he shivered.

His sweat was drying, itchy and cool all at once now that they were inside. The water was practically icy. Charlie downed half his glass, but his voice rasped.

“How are your hands?” His muscles had that trembling, aching feeling of lost adrenaline or rest after a workout, and he leaned against the sink without thinking, his palm on the cold stainless steel. He'd imagined kissing Will against his sink, imagined more than that, touching him, fucking him. He coughed and looked up into Will's eyes, then pulled his hand away and shifted to put his back to the counter.

Will held up one palm for him. It was red but not blistered, as clean and neatly manicured as ever. Charlie took another drink. Will did as well, eyes still on him over the rim of the glass.

“You did a good job,” Charlie admitted, and Will smiled, probably at what a lame line that was. But Charlie meant it and tried to explain. “I wouldn't have thought of any kind of design, much less one like that.” Will only turned, taking another few sips before putting his glass down.

Charlie wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and swallowed the last of his water. “What did you think of it?” He frowned a little as he put his glass down too.

“It was definitely different.” Will looked surprised at his own answer, and it was Charlie's turn to say, “Oh” as Will scrunched up his nose.

“Good different?” Charlie tried to keep the nerves out of his voice.

“Not a bad different,” Will said, considering. He was speaking in a library hush. “Something I could do again, though not right away,” he decreed, and thankfully over the sound of Charlie exhaling. His eyes lit up. “I noticed you were having fun.” He hummed to himself. “What finally got big, bad Sergeant Howard to smile out there? I hope it was something I did.”

Charlie wrinkled his nose at Will's name for him, then remembered Will's expression when he'd put his foot in his mouth for the second time in a few minutes, and his embarrassment afterward.

He also remembered Will's ten-minute-long stream of gardening talk and felt his mouth curving right back up. Will had been sexy like that, happy and confused and unselfconscious, too excited to consider the idea that anyone might find gardening talk boring, unaware of how dirty he was.

Charlie reached out without answering and ran a quick, sweeping touch over the tip of Will's nose. Will inhaled, his pupils dark and twinkling even in the afternoon light, and Charlie's smile slipped before he pulled back his finger and silently turned his hand out for Will to see the spot of dirt.

Will focused on it, then blinked. He wiped at his nose in a gesture he could have stolen from Sam, and his gaze went from his fingertips to Charlie's face.

“You have some in your hair too,” Charlie informed him, only
slightly
guilty, but he jumped at Will's sudden exclamation and burst of motion.

“What?” Will twisted away and looked from side to side as though a mirror was going to appear for him. Charlie's hand flew out to catch him, calm him down, something.

“It's just dirt.” He shrugged to make his point, and when Will didn't move, his fingers curled around his forearm, then slid down loosely to his wrist. He could feel Will's pulse, fast against his thumb. “You look... .” Cute, but then, Will always looked cute. It was strange to say he liked Will less than perfect like this, but he did. He took his hand away.

Will had stopped and was frowning up at him, obviously resentful that Charlie hadn't told him sooner. One foot was tapping, though he had let Charlie grab him to keep the rest of him still, but even that stopped when Charlie's fingers slid away. He met Charlie's gaze and blinked again, his annoyance fading when he saw whatever Charlie was revealing with his stare.

Charlie had a feeling it was too much. He wet his lips, and Will slowly tipped his head back, to hold Charlie's gaze, or just to expose his throat, or to wait for the kiss Charlie wanted to give him.

The harsh buzz of his cell phone vibrating against the countertop made him flinch and made Will shoot a startled, confused look around the kitchen. Charlie didn't remember setting his cell to silent, but he must have last night before falling asleep.

The phone was where he'd left it to charge. Will stepped back as Charlie stomped around him to see who was calling. One of his sisters most likely. At the name “Nana,” however, Charlie momentarily froze, then unplugged the charger and answered the call with one distracted look at Will.

“I'm sorry,” he managed in a whisper, and then he made his voice louder. “
Hola
, Nana.”

“
Precioso
.” Nana paused to catch her breath, and for a second, Charlie went tense, expecting a crisis. Her gravelly voice was laced with genuine worry, and Charlie reached out though he couldn't help anything through the phone. But she breathed in again and went on, and he realized she had just hurried to get to the phone. “Your sisters
me asustaron
, but now I hear your voice and I know everything is all right.”

“Nana.” Charlie glared at his door, in the possible direction of any of his sisters, and waited for his heart to slow. “There's nothing to worry about. I'm fine.” By the sink, Will made a small noise. Charlie spun around and saw Will's eyebrows up, though he was feigning interest in the sink. It wasn't his best acting work.

“I'm
better
than fine. Everything's okay,” he assured his grandmother, trying to be loud and calm at the same time. If he closed his eyes, he could picture her on a stool in her kitchen, using the phone on the wall with the long cord because she refused to use a cell phone in the house. He was sure she'd never used the cell phone they'd gotten her. She liked the wall phone because the cord was long enough for her to move around the kitchen and talk at the same time. But it was getting close to dinnertime, and he didn't hear any sounds of her cooking. “Is anyone visiting?” Charlie frowned. “Are you alone?”

“Carlos, I took care of myself before you were born, I can take care of myself now. Haces ruido como una gallina.” Charlie looked up. Will wouldn't have heard that or understood it, but he felt his face get warm. Worrying because he cared about someone didn't make him a hen.

“Angel was supposed to... .” Charlie swore silently at the thought of his cousin, who was living with Nana to do some of the chores and supposedly to keep an eye on her.

“Carlos, let a man be a man.” Angel was eighteen, but it was no use bringing that up. “Your cousin wanted to visit his girlfriend. I'm okay. Rosa had a good boy, and he had good children. And I am not alone. Anita was here yesterday, and Melissa and the
bebes
are coming home this weekend... y ese marido suyo.” Missy's husband Daniel was an engineer and made enough to support his family, but as far as Nana was concerned, nobody, but especially a man, was worth anything who didn't know how to work with their hands if they had to.

Charlie sighed and rubbed his eyebrow at what it meant that Ann had visited. Will eyed him for a moment before stepping to the sink. He turned on the water and splashed some on his face, mostly at his nose and mouth, sputtering as he washed away imaginary dirt.

“What is that?” Nana paused, and Charlie realized he was staring. There was water dripping from Will's hairline, and the front of his shirt was dark. He was squinting through the drops in his eyelashes, but he was smiling as though he felt better. Charlie swallowed and covered the phone.

“I have a bathroom,” he whispered but took his hand away to reach in a drawer. He tossed over a dishtowel. Will mouthed something back at him, then shrugged and grabbed the towel.

“Just the sink, Nana.” Charlie kept the frown on his face and watched Will dab at the water all over him.

“Anita says you do not answer your phone. Are you ignoring her? You don't ignore your sisters, Carlos.”

“I answer my phone.” Charlie had an extra glare for that. If he hadn't answered his phone, he would
not
have been watching Will pause to stare at the pattern on his dishtowel before he rubbed it all over his neck. As though Will had the same reaction to that statement, he pulled the towel away to stare at Charlie. He sighed.

He looked cleaner and cooler, but the water hadn't done anything to his hair. Charlie pointed to it, and Will pouted at him, his lower lip out, and parked himself against the counter. His arms were crossed over his chest, the attitude saying that he was prepared to wait.