The Elf And Shoemaker Page 7

  "I love you, Logan."

  Logan's heart squeezed tight.

  "Oh, God..."

  He was still reeling when, minutes later, the two chatting and laughing women approached the counter. He curled his hand again, feeling the ring on his finger, warm and comfortable, as if it were exactly where it was supposed to be.

  Trying to pull his focus back to his job, he smiled at the ladies. "Hi. What can I do for you?" he asked, his voice husky and still shaken from what he'd just discovered.

  "I'm going to get this for my sister for her birthday tomorrow," the bouncy brunette with blue eyes said. She was dressed in slacks, sweater, and heels, and carried a coat over her arm. Her companion, a tall black woman, was similarly clad. They probably worked in the administration building at the university, which was just a few blocks away--the students and professors were usually more casual in attire.

  Logan picked up the small fairy statue. It was one of the least expensive ones he sold, going for only $5.99. "Would you like a birthday card to go with it?" he asked hopefully. Even a two dollar card would help. "There's a rack right there."

  "No, thanks I've got one already. That's a great ring," she said, pointing to his hand. "It's different. Beautiful."

  He rubbed his thumb self-consciously along the backside of the band, and a sudden pang of loneliness for Hallan shimmered through him. "Thanks."

  Her companion was sifting through the basket on the counter containing polished natural stones. Then she moved to the basket holding pewter goddess coins.

  Trying not to sigh out loud, Logan rang up the fairy. "That's six dollars and forty-two cents," he said.

  As the woman set her coat and purse on the counter and fished in her wallet, her friend suddenly said, "Oooh, Sally, here's something for you." She held up one of the little bottles of Hallan's oil. "Pa-ssion," she said in a teasing voice. "This is what you need to use on Vince."

  Sally rolled her eyes. "Please." Her tone was filled with disgust. "At this point I don't think an atomic bomb would drag Vince away from his precious damned football games on TV." She looked at Logan. "No offense if you're one of those football kind of guys."

  He smiled. "I'm not, so none taken," he said as he wrapped the fairy in tissue paper.

  "I still think....Whoa!"

  Logan and Sally both looked at the friend, startled.

  Uh-oh. The friend had opened the bottle of oil and taken a sniff.

  Her lips parted, her breath came out in soft, panted huffs, and though Logan wasn't interested in women's breasts in a sexual way, it was pretty fascinating to see her large nipples erect and tenting out the fabric on her fine-knit sweater. The sweater was red with white daisies on it and her nipples happened to be perfectly aligned as the jutting, 3-D centers of two of the flowers.

  "What is it, Jane?"

  "This...this...oil stuff. Oh, my God, you've gotta try this."

  "Um, be careful," Logan cautioned. "You probably don't want to get any of it on you if you have to go back to work." He wasn't sure what, exactly, would happen, of course, but didn't think they'd get much work done if they did more than sniff the oil.

  "What is it? Does it smell good or something?" Sally asked.

  Without answering, Jane held the little bottle under Sally's nose and Sally inhaled.

  Her blue eyes opened wide, almost comically so, and then they glazed over with what could only be lust. "Oh...oh!" A shudder swept through her thin frame. "Holy horn dog! That...that's..."

  "Good?" Jane asked, laughing.

  "Oh, that's better than good! That's fucking amazing!" Then she colored and looked at Logan apologetically as if she couldn't believe she'd just said that.

  A grin tugged at his lips--he knew the feeling--but it quickly turned to a wince when Sally took another whiff. He should have warned her not to do it until the first round wore off, but she was already too far gone to stop her.

  Another shudder went through her, but this time it seemed to coil, like a serpent, making her twitch and shimmy from her shoulders to her chest to her curvaceous hips. "Oh, baby! Oh, my God! I could just...just..." Her hands smoothed over her writhing hips.

  Jane, thankfully, snatched the bottle away and capped it.

  "Breathe," Logan told Sally. "It's okay, it'll pass...just breathe."

  "Whooo!" she exclaimed several seconds later. Her color had returned to almost normal, but her eyes twinkled with a new, determined glint. "Okay," she said, grabbing the bottle away from Jane. "I have to have this."

  "Don't you even want to look at the price?" Jane said, still laughing.

  Sally flipped over the purple tag, and though Logan held his breath, certain the cost would be a deal breaker, she didn't even flinch when she saw it. "I'll take it."

  Logan could hardly believe it. "I'll have to ring this up separately since I already closed out the other sale," he told her, trying to keep the shock out of his voice.

  "Go for it." She handed him the bottle of PASSION oil and her credit card. To Jane she said, "Vince isn't going to know what hit him. He's so no watching football tonight!"

  "Don't take it internally, or ingest it in your...um...play," Logan felt compelled to caution. He didn't even know for sure what was in the stuff, so he couldn't willingly let a customer get sick from it.

  "Should I rub some on him?" she asked Logan seriously. "Like...on his dick? Oh, my God, I can't believe I'm asking you this," she said, blushing.

  He couldn't either. But, hey, if he of all people couldn't talk about dick, then it was a pretty sad day. "I'd try it somewhere else first, to see how he'll react and how long it lasts. It's pretty potent stuff. You don't want to...er...rev him up too fast and keep him up for too long or it might hurt him. Maybe try his pulse points first." He hoped he wasn't going to have to explain where those were, especially the more intimate ones. "And just do one drop on one pulse point at a time. Go slowly." He had a feeling a little went a long way.

  "Okay. Go slowly. Check. And maybe I'll use a little on myself, too, to...you know...entice him."

  He passed the credit card receipt to her, and after she'd signed, he wrapped the oil in another sheet of tissue paper and tucked it into a separate small bag. "Thanks. I hope Vince likes it," he said. "And happy birthday to your sister."

  "No, thank you." She stashed the bag with the oil in her purse along with the fairy, and picked up her coat.

  "No sniffing at work, now," Jane teased her as they headed toward the door.

  "Oh, heck no! Can you imagine old sour-faced Danzinger if he caught one of us in a state of arousal? The man's so uptight he's probably never had sex in his life." They laughed and waved at Logan as they left, the bell on the door jingling behind them.

  Logan stared at the credit receipt he still held in his hand. Holy horn dog. The amount he'd made on that one bottle of oil was enough to pay more than a quarter of his electric bill.

  The ring on his hand seemed to pulse, though he was certain that was his imagination. But as he looked it, glimmering in the light, and once again down at the note he'd set on the shelf just below the register, and remembered Hallan's low voice whispering sweet words in his ear, a warm rush of emotion welled up inside him, and for a minute, he thought he might cry.

  Chapter 5

  * * *

  By the time Logan crawled into bed Thursday night--fully dressed in sweats and a thermal tee--he was torn somewhere between excitement, cautious optimism, exhaustion, and sheer damn loneliness for a man he couldn't get out of his mind.

  He'd sold another bottle of the oil in the afternoon, to a twenty-something Goth couple who'd pretty much gone through the same sniffing and arousal game that he and Sally and Jane all had. They'd come in to buy incense, but thanks to Hallan's oil had left with the incense, the PASSION oil, candles, and a thick book on Tantric sex. "Damn, baby, I never knew you were so kinky," the heavily pierced man-in-black had said as he'd goosed his girlfriend's ass while she was paying. Logan hadn't cared what they were goosing...he'
d been too stupefied by the total amount of the sale he was ringing up.

  As he lay in the dark, the covers pulled up to just below his eyes for warmth, he wondered, with a tremor of anticipation, if Hallan might come back tonight. He couldn't deny any longer that Hallan existed, but he had no idea how this had all happened. Where did Hallan live? What had he meant when he said he'd been with Logan a long time? He'd known that Logan had asked for help, but how? How had he gotten in the house, and how had he left? Through the front door, or did he just poof out of existence, or what?

  Those questions and more had run through Logan's head all day. How, how, how? Why, why, why? He'd come up with no reasonable answers. Although, in a world where elves and love potions were fact rather than fiction, the definition of "reasonable" seemed to have flown out the window.

  But the two biggest questions in Logan's mind were: what had Hallan meant when he said he'd lose Logan if he stayed last night? And when would he come back?

  He'd said he'd return as soon as he was able, but things where he came from were complicated. Logan didn't know what that meant, and it left him with a knot in his stomach. He was afraid "as soon as I'm able" might mean a month from now, or a year, or, God forbid, even longer. He had a gnawing fear that if he didn't see Hallan again soon, like really soon, he might begin to forget details about him, and then one day he'd wake up and think all over again that it had just been a wonderful dream.

  Except you'll still have the ring.

  He rubbed the fingers of his left hand over the ring on his right, trying to take comfort in it and the fact Hallan had left it for him--a piece of him to hold onto.

  "Why am I obsessing over this so much? Twenty-four hours ago I didn't even know this guy existed. This is crazy."

  But he knew exactly why he was obsessing. Twenty-four hours ago he hadn't had the most amazing, earth-shattering intimate encounter of his life with a man who appeared out of nowhere, treated him with more respect and tenderness than anyone he'd ever been with, then went downstairs and, out of the what seemed like the goodness of his heart, whipped up a potion that had already brought in more money for the shop than Logan had earned in a single day in months. And who, on top of it all, claimed to be an elf. A person would have to be crazy not to be obsessing. Especially when that person couldn't shake the idea that he might have fallen just a little bit in love with the elf even though he'd only know him for one night.

  How could he be feeling that way about someone who shouldn't even exist in this world? Someone he hadn't even seen?

  And, yet, there it was. He was feeling it, whether or not it seemed "reasonable" or believable. He couldn't fathom that he'd shared with a stranger what he did with Hallan last night, but that was just it...for some reason Hallan hadn't seemed like a stranger. He'd felt new but familiar, thrilling but also comforting, and for reasons Logan couldn't fully explain, he'd trusted him.

  Logan wanted him back. Wanted to kiss him and touch him and strip him naked again. But he also wanted to talk to him. Really talk to him this time--about his life and how he'd made the PASSION oil and why he'd had to go last night.

  He hated that he'd never actually seen Hallan. He could recall things about him based on every other sense, but in the dark room, he'd been blind. Logan closed his eyes, let his body relax, and tried to build a picture of Hallan in his mind based on what he knew.

  He'd sensed he was tall...taller than his own five foot nine. And lean, but not thin. His chest, arms and legs had been defined, muscular even, but in a tempered way, like a tennis player's or maybe a soccer player's rather than a body builder's. He had long hair. Soft, silky long hair, that had tickled against Logan's chest when Hallan leaned down to kiss him. And pointed ears that really got him aroused when they were stroked. Logan grinned sleepily. Who knew that the way to an elf's heart, or at least his cock, was to rub his ears?

  His face had been smooth with no stubble, and when he smiled, Logan had felt a dimple on one cheek. He'd had soft curls at his groin and a fine dusting of hair on his legs and arms, but his chest and abs had been sleek. And his cock...amazing, long, not too thick, and uncut, which Logan found incredibly sexy.

  There wasn't much about Hallan that he hadn't found sexy. But he still missed not knowing the little details, like the color of his hair and skin and eyes, and whether or not his eyes twinkled when he was happy, or crinkled when he smiled, or darkened with passion when he was about to come.

  Hallan Greystone.

  Yawning, Logan snuggled deeper under the covers, his body growing heavy. The ring was warm against his finger. His heart thudded slowly and steadily in his chest, yet it seemed to ache on each beat.

  I miss you. When are you coming back?

  * * * *

  Much to Logan's disappointment, Hallan didn't return Thursday night.

  He woke up Friday morning very much alone, still fully dressed, with no memory of any visitors or even any dreams. He'd slept dead to the world.

  And when he went down to the kitchen, everything was as he'd left it the night before--his empty noodle bowl in the sink where he hadn't bothered to rinse it, the stack of bills he'd been going through before bed still scattered across the tabletop, and the beginnings of a grocery list on the counter near the coffeemaker. The shop was the same as always, too. With the exception of the two remaining bottles of PASSION oil still sitting next to the register. The sight of them twisted his heart. He was grateful for them. But right now he'd trade them in a heartbeat to see the man who'd created them.

  Traffic in the shop Friday was a bit better than it had been of late, especially considering snow fell throughout the day, piling up on top of what still remained on the ground from Wednesday. Before he'd opened the store, Logan had made a quick jog over to Mrs. Khovansky's to shovel her stoop for her. She'd rewarded him with hot blini and strawberry jam, which had been a pleasant, unexpected way to start his day.

  Around noon, he sold another bottle of PASSION oil. It struck him as odd that the customer who bought it, a somewhat dowdy middle-aged woman with graying hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, scruffy down jacket, and oversized fur boots, didn't even open it and try it. She'd come into the shop, browsed for maybe half an hour, and arrived at the register with a bag of sea salt, the UFO Tarot deck, and a bumper sticker that said Tree Hugging Dirt Worshipper. She didn't say a single word to Logan during the whole transaction. Didn't look at him. Didn't smile. When he asked her if she'd found everything okay, she stoically picked up the bottle of PASSION oil and set it on top of the Tarot deck. He got no response when he gave his now familiar warning about how the oil should only be used topically and not ingested. She didn't flinch when he gave her the final total, and didn't respond when he thanked her and told her to have a great rest of the day. She shuffled out of the store in the same stony silence she'd entered. He'd been in retail for five years and it was the single oddest customer experience he'd ever had.

  By five-thirty the snow was really flying hard. Logan hadn't had a customer come in for the last half-hour, and at this point didn't think he would. Anyone sane would be home or headed home right now before the roads got worse than they probably already were.

  He was just about to close and lock up a little early, when an athletically built, fortyish businessman entered. Logan recognized him as a repeat customer and thought he remembered his name was Robert. He came in occasionally and browsed the books--subjects like Taoism, meditations, manifesting with positive thought. He sometimes bought a book or two, and every now and then he'd find something else in the store to his liking. He was also, if Logan wasn't off his mark too far, gay. There was a definite vibe...the way he made eye contact with Logan, smiled at him. He was a fine-looking man with a full head of light brown hair just beginning to gray at the temples, piercing blue eyes, an easy full-lipped smile. He always smelled good like expensive cologne that was just right without being overkill, and the guy could wear a tailored suit like nobody's business. He was the kind of man that if he
put his picture up on a gay Internet site, he'd probably have thirty emails in the first two minutes from men panting to meet him.

  "Hey, I'm not catching you too late, am I?" he asked with a flash of white teeth as he came through the door, brushing snow off the shoulders of his wool trench coat and shaking his head.

  "No, no, come on in."

  It wasn't like Logan had anywhere to go. He returned behind the counter to log some invoices that had come in over the past couple of weeks while the businessman looked around. Although he usually enjoyed talking with his customers, Logan didn't start a conversation tonight. As one part of his brain worked by rote on the invoices, the rest of him was elsewhere, as he'd been for the past forty-eight hours, thinking about a certain elf with a voice like warm velvet. He relived in his mind yet again the details of Wednesday night, every touch, every kiss, every soft moan as Hallan had brought him to a place he'd never been before, with every sense engaged, his body trembling on the edge of a pinnacle higher than any he'd experienced, and then the heady rush as they plunged over the edge. Logan bit his lip to hold back a silent cry.

  "Anything I can do to help?"

  Logan's eyes flew open--he hadn't even realized he'd closed them--and felt heat slide up his cheeks. Oh, God, had he made some noise out loud? "Um...what?" he asked, trying to play it cool, but he sucked at cool. He knew he had a tendency to broadcast all his emotions on his face.

  "I said, anything I can do to help? You looked like you were reliving something pretty amazing, but then you looked sad, like maybe whoever he was left you sleeping alone when it was all over."

  Robert the heartthrob businessman was smiling. And was that come-on Logan read in his blue gaze?

  "Uh..."

  "A man like you should definitely not be sleeping alone." Robert rested a hand on the counter and leaned in closer. "Whoever he is or was, you deserve better. Which is why I thought maybe I could help."

  Logan gulped. He was pretty sure it was loud enough for the man to hear, too.