“Got you,” Jack breathed into Morgan’s ear. Morgan was hard and ready and utterly still beneath him. “Got you forever.”
“Yes, you do,” Morgan said, as solemnly as though he were making a vow.
CHAPTER 33
jack
Waking up in Morgan’s arms had been sublime, and for the first time in a long while, Jack felt entirely at ease. As though the world was good and he had a place in it. At Morgan’s side.
Yes, Morgan got up off the futon as though his body was a weight too heavy for him to carry. Jack let him get as far as he could on his own, which was good for him, before helping Morgan into a seat at the kitchen table and handing him the cane.
Instead of sending him on his way, Morgan tugged at Jack’s T-shirt and pulled him closer, looking up at Jack as though Jack was his whole world. Which made Jack feel ten feet tall and covered with hair.
“Can I have a kiss?” Morgan asked, like he couldn’t have just taken it. As though Jack wouldn’t have let him.
“Sure,” Jack said, and the quick, soft kiss they shared was as sweet as anything.
Jack straightened and was about to begin making breakfast when they heard a pounding at the door downstairs.
Morgan stood up, fingers clenched on the handle of his cane. With a good hot breakfast inside him, he’d be a great dealsteadier on his feet, Jack knew. Right now, he wasn’t ready for stairs.
“I’ll go,” Jack said.
When he reached the ground floor, he could see someone standing on the other side of the double doors. The sun was bright, streaming from the side at an angle, gold light slicing through blue sky.
Gingerly, Jack unlocked the door. “Help you?” He could hear the thump of Morgan’s cane as he came down the stairs, slow on each step. “Look, we’re closed.”
“I’ve come to pick up my special order.”
The man was tall and broad-shouldered in his fake-fur-trimmed hooded parka, much like the one Morgan had bought for Jack. This man’s parka was a deep, dark, bottom-of-the-ocean blue, and as he pushed the hood away from his face, Jack took a step back. If Morgan was grumpy, this man had a glower to freeze fire. He seemed nobody that Jack wanted to mess with.
“Special order?” Jack asked. “Don’t know anything about that.”
“Can we help you?” came Morgan’s voice from the landing. He stepped out, wearing his bathrobe and sneakers, clenching his cane but walking steadily toward them. “I heard something about a special order?”
“Yes, thank you.” In the relative warmth of the shop, the man unzipped his parka and stomped the snow from his boots. “I ordered two months ago from Oralee—sorry to hear about her passing—and I need those tools.”
“Thank you.” Morgan came closer, then stopped, resting both hands on his cane. “I apologize for the delay. I’ve only now sorted through most of her papers and back orders, and I had intended to contact—Never mind, sir. What’s your name, and what was your order?”
“Bramwell,” he said. “Wolfe Bramwell. I ordered leatherworking supplies. A new lace cutter. A packet of needles, sack and triangle and so on. Some punch tools. Thick cotton thread. Figured I’d take advantage of a few hours of good weather and come by to pick it up.”
Morgan nodded. “I believe we have that for you, Mr. Bramwell. Jack, could you go and get it from the storeroom? It’s a medium-sized box, but it’s heavy.”
“Sure.”
Jack raced off and poked around in the storeroom until he found the box withWolfe Bramwellon the label, sitting on the floor near the back. He grunted as he lifted it and brought it out to where the two men were waiting. He placed the box on the counter and clapped the dust from his hands.
Mr. Bramwell took a pocketknife from his back pocket and sliced the tape on the box. He checked to make sure of the contents, then nodded.
“Looks like it’s all there,” he said. “Where should I sign?”
Morgan gestured to the office, then paused. “It’s my knee,” he said, as if to excuse his weakness. “Jack, could you get the clipboard that’s on the desk?”
Again, Jack hurried to help, returning with a clipboard that held a small stack of bills of lading. Morgan flipped through the papers, brought one to the top, and handed the clipboard to Mr. Bramwell, who signed it and handed it back.
It was the most business the store had seen since Jack’s arrival.
“Everything will be online soon, I hope.” Morgan gently slapped the clipboard against his thigh. “I’m planning to get an ePad and set up automatic delivery notices and reminders. Aunt Oralee was just a bit?—”
