Chapter Two

Kipling Taylor

 

 

 

As I climbed my front steps, I patted my pocket for my phone out of pure habit and with a constricted feeling in my stomach, realized I’d left it at the debit card machine inside. I turned around since the store was walking distance to my house and made my way back in a hurry. That phone not only had my contacts, but sometimes I jotted down notes about patients in the verbal note-taking app my assistant had suggested.

“It’s you,” a male voice spoke in my direction. I figured he was speaking to someone else so I pushed the exit door open and headed for the ATM, letting out a long breath of relief seeing my phone still there where I left it.

Gotta love a small town. In New York where I’d studied at NYU, that phone would’ve been long gone.

With a lighter heart, I headed for the door I’d used to enter.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” the same voice said, and I turned this time, phone retrieval no longer on my mind, to see what was happening. That’s when I realized who the voice belonged to. Hal—the guy from the Moonlight Lounge who sang like a displaced angel. I often went there for a drink after a hard day and let his voice soothe all the bad things away.

“Hi. You’re Hal, right?” Stupid, stupid, stupid. Everyone knew this guy was Hal. He was like a local celebrity, or he was to me. His smile took my breath away.

“I am. And you’re…”

I stuck out my hand after shuffling around my shopping bag with an embarrassing amount of unhealthy food contained within. I shoved my phone in my pocket and waited as he gawked at my hand. “I’m Kipling. You’re a great singer.”

He took my hand, but we didn’t shake at all, instead, held hands like longtime friends or lovers, mostly the latter. Then he covered my hand with his other one after putting down his bag.

“I’ve seen you sitting at the bar.”

I nodded and then looked to the floor. There were many times I’d wanted to approach him, but it seemed he already had a group of people and I wasn’t sure of his relationship status. Plus, most of the time I was still twisted up from the day.

“I go in to unwind. Your music certainly helps.”

He chuckled loud and hard. “That cheesy, huh?”

I took the opportunity to look at him like this, in regular clothes. He wore a V-neck sweater in navy which suited him well. Gray slacks accentuated his legs and I was sure other parts as well.

“Not cheesy. You have an amazing voice. It eases me.”

Shouldn’t have said that last part without knowing if he had an omega already. A crisp fall breeze hit us and almost barreled me over, carrying his scent, all cranberry and tangerine and cinnamon.

He should be a cocktail all by himself.

“I am glad to be of service. Oh, I must be leaving but…”

“Where are you off to? Big plans for Thanksgiving?” None of your business, man. Jeez.

“Yes, actually, and you?”

I was caught between not wanting to sound pathetic and actually being pathetic.

“Um, I’ve got an obscene amount of cheesecake and fried chicken. And the parade is on, so…”

Yep, A+ in Pathetic Arts.

“Well, that just won’t do, omega. How about you join me for Thanksgiving. I’m going over to spend it with some friends. I’m not allowed to cook things for other people to eat, so I was in charge of the olive platter, napkins, and I picked up ice, my specialty. I also bought cookies but I’ve eaten most of them. I had to keep up my strength in that long line.”

I laughed and felt my cheeks heat at the sight of his smile. This wasn’t the one he flashed in the club, rather, this was a genuine grin. Somehow I knew that.

I couldn’t pass up this opportunity. Not only had this man featured in my dreams of late, but he took main stage in my spank bank and had for months.

I needed to know him.

“I’d actually love that. And what Thanksgiving couldn’t use another cheesecake?”

“Perfect. Do you trust me to give you a ride? I can bring you home afterward.” His tone told me that bringing me home might hold a little bit more.

“That would be great. I live just down the street. I walked.”

“Then let’s go. At least this year I have a good reason to be late. I picked up one of the hottest guys I’ve ever seen.”

 

~~

 

“I wish we had candles floating up there like Harry Potter,” Anderson mused while looking up at the ceiling, beautifully decorated with fall decor hanging from the rustic chandelier.

“But that’s Dumbledore’s magic, not real. Notice the candles don’t drip hot wax onto the students.”

Who knew Hal had an extensive knowledge of Potterworld.

“I know. But I can wish. What kind of name is Kipling?” The boy I saw once a week in counseling pointed to me with a fork in hand. It was different to see my patients and their parents outside of my office. Anderson was especially surprised to see me.

“You mean Kipling?” I asked. Hal had introduced me as Kipling, and Anderson had looked at me weird ever since. To him, I was Dr. Taylor. Maybe I should be less formal and let my clients call me by my first name all the time.

He scoffed and stabbed at a piece of turkey. “That’s a weird name.”

I leaned back in my chair, appalled at the education system for a minute but then remembered the boy was only eleven. I was such a snob. “It’s after an author. Joseph Rudyard Kipling. You’ve seen the movie The Jungle Book?”

Liam interjected, “Anderson, we read that book. Mowgli and the jungle. You know it.”

Anderson looked to be thinking as a smile rose to his face. “So you wrote that book and you’re a doctor?”

I sighed. “No, I was named after him. Good book, right?”

He nodded. “Hal brings Robbie books sometimes and he shares them with me.”

Over Anderson’s head, I looked at Hal, barely touching his food, already staring at me. His eyes on me had my stomach fluttering overtime. I bit down on my lip and wished it was him doing the biting instead. “Do you?”

He shrugged. “I got lost in books when I was a kid. Kids don’t read enough these days, and I know Patrick and Damon aren’t big on TV other than the video games, so I do what I can.” He reached over and tickled Anderson’s ribs, making the kid giggle. “So you like them, too, Anderson? I need to double down on my book buying.”

Anderson bobbed his head. “Who wouldn’t like a book full of tigers and snakes and bears.”

“And now? Do you read now, Hal?” I cut in, craving every bit of knowledge about him.

“Yes, when I find time between my office job and singing. And you?”

First date questions. We were surrounded by strangers to me and kids, yet, I felt like Hal and I were the only ones in the room. I told him that I loved to read, but only on audio.

“Well that’s easy. Hal likes to sing which is kind of like telling a story. He can tell you stories,” Robbie contributed from across the table.

Hal’s eyebrow popped up at the notion. “Bedtime stories are my favorite.”

“It’s been a long time since I had a good bedtime story,” I said, taking a bite of the homemade cranberry sauce and thinking about how Hal probably tasted sweet and tart like his scent portrayed.

“Well, maybe it’s time we fixed that.”