If It Drives (A Market Garden Tale)

  Well, that explained the straight strip club. It was obviously Patrick’s preference, and the customer was always right, wasn’t he? Though Cal didn’t imagine that James was exactly suffering through the strip shows and lap dances and whatever else. He did like women, after all.

  Sitting there in the darkness, Cal drummed his fingers on the wheel and thought back over the last year. James had brought plenty of men home. Usually Market Garden rentboys.

  No women, though. Not once. The only times he could remember women getting into the car, they were colleagues or clients, and he knew for a fact nothing happened during those drives.

  Maybe James couldn’t deal with women while he was still reeling from his divorce. And that, Cal realised, underscored why he had no business getting involved with the man. If he was still so hung up on his wife he couldn’t even look at another woman, and too fucked up in the head to spend the night with a man he couldn’t send away with a few hundred quid in hand, then Cal didn’t want any part of him.

  Then why the fuck did it still hurt just thinking about the way James had submitted to him? That easy surrender that almost reminded him of Spencer with Nick?

  James had fought Nick. He’d fought him hard enough for Nick to remember him. Remember what a handful he was. But he wasn’t that way with Cal.

  “I hired Nick.”

  “You hired both of us, James.”

  “Not for . . . not for this.”

  Cal closed his eyes and shook his head. It had been in the heat of the moment. In that state, James probably would’ve said “I love you” if they’d pushed him hard enough. Didn’t mean it was true.

  Just a little more time. Then another driver would take Cal’s place, and he could move on.

  And that day couldn’t get here fast enough.

  Cal was dozing in the driver’s seat when his mobile vibrated on the dash. He blinked a few times, then grabbed the phone.

  We’re done here.

  He sent back, Be there shortly.

  Both men were in great spirits—probably from consuming great amounts of spirits—when Cal pulled up. He held open the door and kept his expression neutral as Patrick poured himself into the back of the car.

  Puke in my car. I dare you.

  James hesitated at the door. He was drunk, but when he met Cal’s eyes, he seemed to sober a little. “Is everything all—”

  “We should get you home, sir.” Cal kept his tone level and neutral, bordering on terse. “It’s nearly one, and you’ve got a meeting tomorrow morning.”

  James didn’t move. He wavered a little, probably off-balance from the booze. “Callum. Talk to me.”

  “You have a client with you, sir.” Cal wished like hell he’d worn the sunglasses in spite of the darkness. “We should go.”

  After another moment of hesitation, James slid into the car. As Cal got into the driver’s seat, he realised he hadn’t asked where they were going, so he grudgingly rolled down the privacy screen, which let in their loud, booze-scented laughter.

  “Sir,” he said over them. “I’m sorry, I forgot to ask. Where are we going?”

  “Oh. Right.” James turned to Patrick. “Where’s that place you’re staying again?”

  Patrick made an animated gesture with a glass—oh, fuck, they’ve got into the champagne, haven’t they?—and said, “Over on . . . what’s that street? Stratford Street? The May Fair Hotel?”

  “Right. Yes.” James met Cal’s eyes in the mirror. “Take us to Stratford Street. The May Fair.”

  It was actually on Stratton Street, but whatever. “Will do, sir.” Cal started to roll up the privacy screen, but made the mistake of glancing back one more time. He caught James’s eye, and once again, James seemed to sober a little.

  Then the screen blocked Cal’s view, and he’d never been so thankful for that. He shifted the car into gear and, gritting his teeth and holding the wheel tighter than necessary, took them back to Patrick’s hotel. He didn’t let himself imagine what might be going on behind the screen. He didn’t want to know. It wasn’t his concern anymore, no matter how concerned he still was for James and how much he wanted to leave Patrick on the side of the road, take James home, and tuck him into bed like he’d done in the days before things had got weird.

  At the hotel, James got out, and the two men exchanged the usual handshakes and formalities, though with considerably less coordination and enunciation. Patrick staggered into the lobby, and James slid back into the car without even looking at Cal.

  The privacy screen stayed up on the drive home. Cal assumed they were headed home. It was very late, and James hadn’t told him to go anywhere else, so that was where he went.

  In front of the house, he left the car idling and stepped outside. The property was quiet compared to the rest of the city, even at this time of night, and the crunch of Cal’s dress shoes on gravel seemed to echo off the front of the big, empty house.

  The place seemed extra dark, too, but that was because he’d put on his sunglasses just before he’d got out.

  He pulled open the passenger door and stood aside. James stepped out, wobbling a little, and as soon as he was upright, faced Cal. He eyed him, probably wondering why on earth Cal had on shades this time of night.

  “Anything else, sir?” Cal asked.

  “Um.” James glanced at the house. “I wondered if you’d come in. For a cup of coffee.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, sir.”

  “Why not?” James was drunk enough to really ask him that.

  “Because.” Cal took his sunglasses off and stared James right in the eye. “You’re drunk and that means you’re in no state to give consent for me to fuck you. I can of course take you to Market Garden to get a pro.”

  James frowned. “Just coffee, Cal. I didn’t . . .”

  “You’ve just come out of a strip club and you want to drink coffee?” Cal scoffed. “I. Don’t. Think. So.” More like an itch that needed scratching, but he was done offering that kind of all-inclusive service.

  “That wasn’t what I intended.”

  “Then I apologise, sir. It’s been a long day.” Cal couldn’t bring himself to meet James’s eyes. “Is that all, or do you require anything else, sir?”

  “You are going to leave, aren’t you?” James said it quietly.

  “Once the replacement has been trained, yes.”

  James looked at him, but Cal kept his gaze at a point just past James’s temple and slightly behind him. “Anything else, sir?”

  James shook his head and turned, somewhat unsteady on his feet, and damn him, but Cal wanted to make sure he didn’t break his stupid neck on the way to bed. He couldn’t help that impulse. He still cared about the man.

  But he forced himself to not move a muscle until James had opened the door and gone inside.

  Then he parked the car and went to the cottage, where he stripped out of his clothes, had the quickest possible shower, and fell right into bed. At least he’d managed to sleep better than he had recently, now that the decision was made.

  The next morning, even with just four and a half hours of sleep, he felt much better. He was waiting outside the door at the usual time. It didn’t give him any grim satisfaction to see James squint against the light when he finally emerged.

  James stopped beside the car, and Cal bit back a groan.

  Just get in the fucking car already.

  “We’ve got a little time before my meeting. I’d like to talk.”

  “About?”

  “About the other night.”

  Cal stiffened. “We should get to your meeting, sir.”

  James flinched at the last word. “Afterwards, then? I know it’s not an easy thing to discuss, but I think we should.”

  Cal took off his sunglasses and met James’s eyes like he had last night in this exact same place. “You made it clear what you want and what you don’t want the other night. I can respect that, but I’m not going to subject myself to it time and again, knowing
I’m just a substitute for the guys you pay to . . .” To leave when you’re through with them. “The guys at Market Garden give you what you need. You give them what they need. All I want is to be left out of it so I can get what I need.”

  James’s lips parted.

  “Traffic is heavy this morning,” Cal said through gritted teeth. “We should go.”

  For a moment, he thought James would push the issue, but he just stood there, looking bewildered and perhaps struggling to comprehend what Cal had said.

  “Mr. Harcourt.” Cal motioned towards the car. “We should go, sir.”

  “Right. Sure.” James stepped into the car, and as soon as the door was shut, Cal swore under his breath. He didn’t feel any better for having got that off his chest, and he doubted he would feel better until he didn’t have to think about this. That meant not talking about it, and it definitely meant not having these uncomfortable moments with James.

  Uncle Bill, please find someone soon.

  When James came out of his meeting, Cal was waiting as always.

  “Where to, sir?”

  “To Jermyn Street. Another meeting at three.”

  Cal checked his watch. It wasn’t even one o’clock yet. Good. Plenty of time.

  They were halfway there when the privacy screen opened.

  “Change of plans, Callum.”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “We’re near Hyde Park, yes?”

  “Ten minutes away, sir.” Too close to Knightsbridge and all its fancy hotels by far.

  “Find a place to park near there.”

  “Yes, sir.” Cal supposed that was better than James’s usual method of blowing off steam. Sometimes he walked when he needed to think, and a walk around the park lacked the implications of a trip to Market Garden.

  Cal drove them to Hyde Park, and found a spot he could occupy for the hour or so James would likely spend wandering paths and watching squirrels. “We’re here, sir.”

  “Good.” James took a breath. “I’d like you to come back here. Sit with me for a few minutes.”

  Cal suppressed the urge to bang his forehead on the wheel. “Sir, I really don’t—”

  “Please. I only want to talk. After this, I’ll let the subject go.”

  Cal chewed the inside of his cheek for a second, then killed the engine. He raised the privacy screen again, and went around to the passenger side. Hand on the door, he hesitated. Was this a bad idea? Probably. But if it meant dropping the subject and never touching it again, then he could endure the discomfort.

  He opened the door and slid inside. He sat opposite James, trying not to think about the last time they’d faced each other inside these same close quarters.

  James folded his hands in his lap and fixed his gaze on something out the window. “I spent this morning’s meeting thinking about what you said.”

  Cal swallowed. “And?”

  “And I wanted to apologise. I’ve made you feel like a whore. I’ve made you feel . . .” He grimaced. “Disposable.”

  Yeah. That word about summed it up.

  “The other night was overwhelming,” he continued. “It was everything I needed, and then afterwards, I . . .”

  “You wanted me to leave.” Cal folded his hands too. “It’s really that simple.”

  “No, it’s not.” James finally faced him. “Things are different with you than they’ve ever been with Nick or any of the other rentboys. I’ve known that from the beginning, but I guess it scared me. I didn’t understand it.”

  “I still don’t.” Cal realised a second too late how snarky that sounded. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

  “No, it wasn’t.” James squared his shoulders. “I shouldn’t have made you leave the other night. I just didn’t realise . . .”

  He was silent for a long moment. Cal faintly heard one of their watches ticking softly in the background, marking every second that passed with a quiet scratch.

  Then James unbuckled his seat belt. Cal’s heart rate shot up. What the hell was he doing?

  James slid forwards on the seat. Then he lowered himself. One knee on the floor. Then the other. He reached for Cal’s hands, and his warm touch simultaneously made Cal want to shove him away and caused that damned lump to rise in his throat again.

  Finally, James spoke. “What we did the other night, I needed it. And the fact that you went so far as to have Nick show you, and to learn what it was, that . . .” He shook his head. “I still can’t imagine why you’d do that for me. But what I do know is that it boils down to this.” He squeezed Cal’s hands. “I need the domination. I need to be topped.” He put his other hand under Cal’s, and Cal was sure the man’s eyes teared up as he whispered, “But I want you.”

  That wetness in his eyes did more than the words. “You . . . you barely know me.”

  “After eighteen months, I don’t think that’s quite correct.” James stared at the floor. “I know what kind of books you read while you wait. I know that you’re the kind of man who’ll go out of his way to help others, somebody who’s patient, and who watches carefully. You’re a pretty deep guy, Cal. Caring. Kind. Trustworthy.”

  “I snapped at your client.”

  “I don’t think he remembers that today. Besides, your orientation is none of his business, nor is mine.” James smiled a little. “But the thing is, I was never sure what you wanted in return for what you did for me. For being there. For letting me trust you. For trying to give me what I needed, even when I was too ashamed to admit to it.”

  “Why would you be ashamed?”

  “The job, Cal. At work, I’m the one who’s in control. It’s hard enough admitting these feelings to yourself, but to others? Others I cannot control or buy off? I didn’t admit it to you at first because of exactly that. With you, it was never a business transaction I controlled. Which could have doomed it all to failure. My . . . wife knew I was holding something back from her. One of the reasons why she left, in the end. I kept too many secrets, kept too much of myself away. I . . . think it’s only right that she moved on. She deserves better than half a man.”

  Cal winced and grasped James’s hands. “Sit down.”

  “You going to listen?”

  “Yeah. I’m listening.” I’m here. You can trust me.

  Fuck, back to square one.

  “And then I realised I was attracted to you, but I’m your employer, and maybe I shouldn’t have been, though I can’t regret this now. Once I’d figured out you were gay, and you might be interested in me too . . . Oh damn, Cal, that wasn’t easy. But you were always patient. Always kind. A solid presence in my life. Sometimes I thought you were the only human being out there who wasn’t trying to beat me at something, or take advantage. Or gloat over a mistake. You were there for me, as a person.”

  “I didn’t think you’d noticed.”

  James smiled. “You don’t get to my place in the hierarchy by being completely blind.”

  Cal felt some of the tension bleed away. He believed what James was saying, could feel it in the slightly damp grip of his hand. “I thought you didn’t care.”

  “I did, but I needed time to come round to it. I didn’t want to rush it, didn’t want to take advantage, and I absolutely couldn’t share with you what I needed. Maybe I didn’t want to sully you with it. Maybe I didn’t expect you to accept it. I was playing it too safe, and almost ruined it, but you broke through my defences. And then I realised I don’t need them. They were crutches. Suddenly my carefully constructed way of balancing my needs and wants and my life all came tumbling down. It was too much to take in, and I do my best thinking on my own. I was scared. That’s why I sent you away.” He exhaled, his shoulders sinking a little. “And I’m sorry for that. All of it.”

  Cal stared at him for a moment, trying to process everything he’d said. “What do . . . what do we do? I mean, how much do you want out of this?”

  “I’m not sure. I’m honestly afraid of asking too much.”

  Cal stroked the
back of James’s hand. “Try me.”

  James moistened his lips. “I just want you. Whatever comes with you. If you’re not comfortable topping me like that, then I won’t ask you to. If you don’t want a relationship, I won’t ask for one. But I . . .” He lowered his gaze, watching their hands.

  Cal touched James’s chin and lifted it, forcing James to look him in the eyes like Nick had done to him. “You what?”

  James gulped. “I don’t want to ask for more than you’re willing to give. But, Cal . . .” He reached up and touched Cal’s face, his palm warm, unsteady, and slightly damp. “I love you, and I don’t want you to go.”

  Cal’s heart nearly stopped. He found just enough air to whisper, “You do?”

  James nodded.

  Cal slid his hand from James’s chin to the side of his neck, drew him closer, and kissed him. He didn’t even care about the particulars, about how they’d ultimately define this relationship. James had said what he’d wanted to hear more than anything else.

  I don’t want you to go.

  Cal touched his forehead to James’s. “I’ll stay.”

  The relief in James was palpable. The rush of breath. The way his entire body relaxed all at once. “Thank you.” He kissed Cal lightly, cautiously, as if he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to, and Cal pulled him closer.

  Again it was Cal who broke the kiss, but he kept his hand on James’s neck as he drew back. “This could get a little complicated. With me working for you.”

  “I don’t care.” James took Cal’s hand and kissed his palm. “I really, really don’t care.” He met Cal’s eyes again. “We’ll do whatever we have to. If you don’t want to drive for me anymore, if you don’t want to stay in the cottage . . .” He gestured dismissively with his other hand. “Whatever we have to do. But I want to make this work. Ever since you told me you were leaving, that’s all I’ve been able to think about. That I needed to make things right with you. That I want to make this work.”

  Cal kissed his forehead, and paused there for a moment just to savour the tender touch. “We’ll make it work.”