Dating Rules And Pretty Fools Ch. 11

Jackie didn't fit the picture somehow, and it unnerved him that he didn't see how he did fit. Watkins preferred his employees to be quiet, efficient, and nondescript as far as their physical aspects went -- beyond the muscles required for the job -- that regular people would have a tough time picking them out of a lineup.

And then, there was Jackie, loud, obnoxious, boastful, not so bright, and yet he had his place under Watkins's skin. That was a matter worth investigating. Could it be that they were related? What had Jackie said? That Watkins cared or something? Hudson zeroed in on that information.

Could it be that Jackie was Watkins's blind spot? The man had left Jasper, the unfortunate boy, in Jackie's care, and the braggart had lost the centerpiece for Watkins's gruesome business venture's debut without asking too many questions. Hudson had been satisfied with Jackie's lack of brains over it, but there was more to it and he needed to investigate.

Also, save for some yelling and a demotion that would probably not last too long, Jackie hadn't suffered any other consequences for letting Jasper 'run away'. But if Jackie was, indeed, Watkins's blind spot, how had that come to be?

Someone was knocking energetically on his door. Hudson was working less on taking pictures for his website, now that he was gainfully employed, but some guys still dropped by from time to time. Even so, he moved toward the door carefully and looked through the peephole. A smile quirked his lips when he saw Otis on the other side. He appeared to have his arms full and shifted a box from one arm to the other to knock again.

Hudson opened the door before his cute neighbor could do that.

"Hello," Otis said politely. "I am here to bring you a gift."

Hudson took the box from his neighbor's hands and stared at the picture and label on the side. "A crockpot?"

"Yes. I got two at a discount," Otis announced proudly. "A really good discount," he added and leaned forward while raising his eyebrow in an all-knowing expression like an old lady at the market striking the biggest bargain of her life to date.

"That's nice of you. But why?" Hudson asked.

Otis's pretty face lit up. "I got a bonus at work. It's confidential and I can't say anything about it, although Missy knows exactly how much I got, and I know how much she got, but we're not supposed to make other people feel bad that they didn't get as much."

Hudson fought hard not to laugh at Otis's considerate logic and stepped aside. "Come in. Also, what I meant to say, is why give me a gift? And why a crockpot, of all things?"

Otis seemed on top of his game today. He appeared quite bold as he took the box from Hudson's hands and walked into the small kitchen. "It is perfect for the little space you have. And for mine, although I had to find new places for other things to accommodate it. You can make all kinds of food with it." He took it upon himself to install the crockpot neatly on the counter. Then, he turned toward Hudson, his face all a smile. "Now you can eat a lot of healthy foods, like fork-tender roasts and butternut squash soup. It is an excellent addition to any kitchen--"

"Okay, okay," Hudson stopped him before Otis ended up reciting all the marketing materials he must have studied at length -- given his propensity for being as exact and thorough as someone a lot older than his twenty-two years of age. "Thank you for your thoughtful gift. The thing is, I don't have a lot of time to cook."

That seemed to deflate Otis considerably. "You don't like it. You hate it."

Hudson felt like the biggest asshole in the universe. "No, no. Come on, don't say that. It's just that it was your hard-earned money you spent on this. Why would you spend it on me?"

Otis worried his bottom lip before giving the answer. "Because you help me. And for free, on top of everything else."

"And nothing in the world is really free?" Hudson asked while walking closer to his guest. He wanted to comfort Otis, and that need was strong in him.

"I don't mean it like that. I just wanted to do something nice for you, but it looks like I was off the mark, and I apologize. Maybe I should have gotten you that moon lamp."

Hudson laughed softly. "You know what? A crockpot was just the thing I needed without knowing I needed it. Just don't scold me when you come around and you find it unused."

"Can I cook for you?" Otis asked bluntly. "Sorry. May I cook for you?"

It was so easy to fall for this great guy. Damn the freaking timing. Destiny, fate, whatever that was called in his case, had the funniest sense of humor. Indulging in this pretty man, with all his quirkiness and good heart, should have been on top of a list of forbidden things for him. And yet, he found himself opening his mouth and saying the most incredible words in his personal history. "I'd love it if you cooked for me."

Otis was so happy, his only visible eye shining and his entire face an expression of pure joy that Hudson wanted to get his camera quickly and immortalize that moment forever.

"These things come with recipes, and they all sound so good," Otis continued to blabber away. "I will cut all the ingredients at my place, and then I can come with them and put them in your crockpot."

"Hmm, wouldn't it be easier if you just brought me the final result?"

Otis's brows furrowed in thought. "But then I made a mistake by getting two crockpots. But if I only got one, then I wouldn't have gotten the discount--"

Hudson stopped another convoluted budgeting tirade by taking Otis in his arms and kissing his furrowed brow. "I'm not hungry right now, so you can sleep on it."

"Good. I will do that," Otis promised, his earlier determination appearing to melt slowly.

Hudson brushed away the bangs obscuring the hidden eye and kissed the other brow, too. Otis squirmed a little and then looked up at him, his lips parted, his eyes even shinier. Suddenly, he blurted out, "I wore the choker you gave me at work."

"You did?" Hudson licked his lips. Otis smelled so nice, he felt his throat going dry just from standing so close to him. He wanted to devour this beautiful young man, crockpots and recipes be damned. And how nice was that? A stranger buying him a gift because he was that nice a person.

Such behavior needed some proper rewarding. Hudson took Otis by the hand and pulled him toward the main room. "How about showing me?"

***

So, maybe he had been off the mark with the crockpot, and Hudson, who was a very busy man, couldn't be bothered to cut vegetables and turn them into edible things, but in the end, it seemed that everything was working out. Otis was happy for it and tried to avoid reading too much into the way Hudson pulled him along toward the sofa he now knew so well.

He found himself feeling incredibly shy at his earlier admission of having worn the choker to work. Was that too bold of him? But he had promised Hudson he'd do that, so there was no reason for him to worry about having gone too far.

Hudson sat across from him and left him alone on the sofa. His shyness returned, and he looked around, his eyes drawn again to the paraphernalia on the wall. The sight of a new leash made him do a double take. That hadn't been there; he was sure of it. He always tried not to forget things.

"Well," Hudson's voice was deep and rough, "are you going to show me or not?"

Otis touched the first button, a slight tremor in his fingers. He had been so audacious showing it to Missy, so why did he feel like this now? He hardly had any explanation for it. But Hudson was there. He was his teacher. Maybe he'd know. "I don't think I can," he whispered.

Hudson misunderstood and came closer. He began unbuttoning Otis's shirt slowly. Their eyes met as the rough yet gentle hands continued their descent, one button after the other. "You really did wear your choker."

"I did."

"How did it feel?"

"Nice. A little naughty," Otis confessed in a low whisper.

"Naughty and nice. How come you're all that?" Hudson asked.

They were so close, they could smell each other. And Hudson had such a manly, dizzying smell about him, and not because of the personal grooming products he probably used. No, there was something unique about his smell, and Otis was sure he would be able to identify it from a thousand or more. "I don't know," he replied in all honesty.

"I think I do."

"Can you tell me?" Otis closed his eyes as Hudson's lips brushed lightly over his.

"It's simply how you are. Still waters."

"Run deep," Otis completed the old adage. "Is that new leash for me?" Please, say yes.

"You know the rules, Otis. Say that you want it, and it's yours."

Could it be that easy? "Yes, I want it. Please, give it to me."

TBC