Page 70 of Summer Holiday Lifeline

“Myles?”

Myles forced his attention away from the now-empty pass-through. “I’m good. Really. This is good.”

“You two will get there, you know.”

“Maybe.” He hefted the basket. “Right now…”

Lucky grinned. “I’m sure he’s wondering where you are.”

“I sort of hope so,” Myles said. “Not that I like keeping him waiting, but I sort of hope he’s, you know…”

“I know.”

The thought of Steven just one street-crossing away, waiting for him, buoyed Myles partway out of his momentary puddle of feelings. By the time he was climbing the bookstore’s front steps, he could breathe again.

When the front door popped open, with almost an impatient squawk of hinges, he found himself smiling. If he was pushing the kids and their problems to the back of his mind, it wasn’t forever. Just for a moment. Just so he could breathe.

“Well, hello to you, too,” he told the building. “Coming out of our funk, are we?”

The door creaked on its hinges as he went through, then closed gently behind him.

“Who’s in a funk?” Steven asked from the main room where he was flattening a dusty old box.

“Not me,” Myles lied a little and pulled Steven into a bear hug. He breathed in Steven’s scent, nuzzled his nose in his hair and squeezed before letting out a sigh, and some of the unsettled chaos with it. “Not anymore.” He closed his eyes and rested his cheek against Steven’s hair.

“This is different,” Steven whispered against his ear. He nuzzled as he did, pushing Myles’s face away a bit to peck a few kisses down the side of his neck. That effortlessly, he took control of the entire situation while Myles melted into him.

“Kid-heavy morning,” Myles agreed into his hair.

“Everyone okay?”

“Yes. Well. They’re fine.”

“You’re not?”

Myles held him tighter. “I am now.” And wasn’t that a bit of a scary thought, that just a few minutes in Steven’s arms could right his entire world? Too scary to dwell on just then, maybe.

“You’re a bit late,” Steven said when he finally backed off, that crooked grin on his face. He knew exactly how knee-weak he’d made Myles.

“Sorry about that.” He glanced at the pile of books on the coffee table. “Are we not done with those romances yet? How many did you acquire?” He narrowed his eyes at Steven. “Please tell me you haven’t snuck any more in here. I don’t want to have to lie to your sister.”

Steven laughed and kissed his nose. “No. Only you’ve proven to be a very distracting helper. I don’t remember anyone ever explaining that inventory required so much make-out time.”

“Have to keep things from getting too boring. Plus, I need to rest my typing finger.” He held up his first finger.

“You could use more than one.”

“You have a lot of faith in me.”

Steven grinned the crooked, wonderful expression Myles was beginning to crave. “After all the weeks we’ve been working on it, I guess I thought your typing skills might have improved.”

“What you said about being distracted.” Myles bent to kiss him, and Steven allowed it, returned it, and before Myles thought to stop him, Steven dominated it.

When they finally parted, Myles found himself less off-balance, even humming along with the faint strains of a half-remembered Lionel Richie song. He brought their breakfast to the table where Steven had piled the books and carefully shoved a stack of the dusty paperbacks aside with the basket, then took out their coffee cups, holding Steven’s just out of reach.

“What?”

“Sit,” Myles demanded.