Calculated Magic Read online

  “Yes, well.” He dried his hands and dropped the towel on the counter. “I’m not sure I can handle any more excitement today.” His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He was starving. “I tell you what. Seeing as I agreed to share a meal with you, I’ll accompany you as long as you promise no more crazy stuff. I seriously can’t handle any more today.”

  Tikron’s face lit up. He made the sign of an X over his chest. “Cross my heart.”

  “Give me a moment to slip on a pair of jeans.”

  “You sure you don’t want to wear those?” Tikron nodded toward Richard’s pajama pants. “They are really pretty cute.”

  Richard shook his head. He wasn’t even going to dignify that with an answer. Such a silly man. Richard was still smiling even after he shut his bedroom door.

  Magic at first glance.

  Chapter Thirteen

  THE tension in Richard remained as he walked along the sidewalk next to Tikron. On a positive note, he could breathe much better and the sneezing had ceased. The temperature had dropped to a brisk thirty-eight degrees, giving him urgency. His gait was also strong and steady. A stiff wind blew, and he pulled his coat tighter around him. Tikron obviously noticed, because he put his arm around Richard’s shoulders. Tikron’s nearness instantly infused him with warmth and chased off the chill. It was a nice sensation to have a handsome man at his side who actually cared about his comfort. The good feeling increased when Tikron opened the door to the diner and held it for Richard.

  It being later in the evening, the dinner rush was over and the diner wasn’t very busy. They chose a white Formica table in the corner and sat next to each other on red vinyl stools.

  “This is a cool place,” Tikron commented as he took in the restaurant.

  The Starlight Diner definitely embodied the diner atmosphere. The same red vinyl stools surrounded the curved counter, booths lined the walls, and an old-fashioned pie case packed with sweets rotated by the cash register. The 1950s continued beyond the furniture, with black-and-white checkered flooring and old photos of pinup girls on the walls. Adding to the feel was the brightly lit jukebox playing era-appropriate music. It was a great reproduction, considering the diner had only opened two years prior.

  Tikron took two menus from the holder and handed one to Richard.

  “Thank you.” Richard opened the menu and examined the contents.

  “I haven’t eaten here. What do you recommend?”

  “Sorry, I haven’t been here either,” Richard responded without looking up.

  “Oh, I would have thought you had, being so close to your place, and you did recommend it.”

  “Nope. I figured it was the closest, and I’ve heard they have a great veggie burger.” He’d also heard they were quick, which was a major plus because he was starving.

  The waiter arrived at their table with a friendly grin and set water glasses in front of Richard and Tikron. “Good evening. I’m Mick and I’ll be taking care of you tonight. Can I start you off with drinks and appetizers?”

  “Just lemon for my water, please,” Richard informed him.

  “I think I’ll have one of those great-looking root beer floats, and can you bring us one of those combo platters? I like trying everything,” Tikron said with a charming smile.

  The way Mick was staring at Tikron, practically drooling, Richard knew exactly what Mick wanted to try. Richard was surprised that he wanted to move closer to Tikron and stake his claim. Jealousy wasn’t an emotion he was familiar with, but he frowned at Mick.

  Mick didn’t notice. He never even gave Richard a second glance, his eyes glued to Tikron. “I’ll get that right in for you,” he said before swishing and swaying away.

  “Seems like a nice fella,” Richard grumbled. He went back to considering his food choices.

  Tikron closed his menu and returned it to the holder. “I know what I’m going to have. How about you?”

  Richard returned his menu as well. “I think so.”

  Mick must have been lurking in the wings just waiting for another chance to get close to Tikron, because within seconds of Richard closing his menu, the waiter was at their table, eyes once again glued on Tikron. There was also a new—overly strong—aroma of cologne radiating from the guy. No doubt Mick was trying for a more appealing scent to attract Tikron. Richard internally rolled his eyes.

  “Are you ready to order?” Mick asked Tikron.

  “Richard,” Tikron politely deferred.

  “I’ll have the veggie burger with a side of sweet potato fries.”

  “And I’ll have a steak, medium rare, three eggs over easy, Texas toast, and extra hash browns,” Tikron said without taking his gaze from Richard.

  Tikron didn’t notice the disappointment in Mick when Tikron never looked at him, but Richard did. He had the overwhelming desire to stick his tongue out and laugh at Mick’s rejection, but he kept it in check. “That’s a lot of food,” Richard commented when Mick had finally moved along to put in their order.

  “I’m a growing boy.” Tikron propped his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his folded hands. “So, tell me a little about you. What kind of foods do you like?” Richard started to respond, but Tikron continued before he could. “And yes, there is a purpose to this line of conversation.”

  Richard couldn’t help but smile. Tikron obviously did listen when Richard spoke. “And just what would that purpose be?”

  “I want to know everything about you in order to have the best foundation to keep you happy.”

  Richard wasn’t sure he’d agree with the “keep happy” statement, considering he really wasn’t all that happy with his life. Perhaps that would change. “I’m a vegetarian, so I enjoy almost all vegetables, except Brussels sprouts.” Richard wrinkled his nose. “Those things are gross.”

  “Uh-huh,” Tikron said, sounding alarmed. “Is it going to bother you that I ordered steak?”

  “No, not at all, as long as you don’t start gnawing on the bone.”

  Tikron laughed. “Only Ry would do that in public. I have better manners than he does.”

  “Ry?” Richard questioned.

  “My best friend. I call him Ry, but his real name is Ryxium. You met him that first night.”

  Richard picked at his napkin while he tried to recall meeting Tikron’s friend. He’d gone over that interaction a hundred times, and he didn’t remember anyone else being there. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember him.”

  “Oh, I can’t wait to tell Ry. He thinks he leaves an impression everywhere he goes,” Tikron hooted. “We won’t tell him that you didn’t actually meet him, but he was with me the night I first met you. The one I was going to dinner with and asked you to join us.”

  Richard only had a vague recollection of Tikron’s friend. He’d been so focused on not calling attention to himself and thwarting Tikron’s advances that he hadn’t paid attention to his surroundings. “I only remember him being large like you,” Richard admitted.

  Tikron had a sly grin on his face when he said, “That means you only had eyes for me, huh? You can admit it. I won’t tell anyone that you have the hots for me if you don’t want me to.”

  “I never said that,” Richard replied, cheeks heating. It was true. He did have the hots for the man, and the fire was growing.

  “You didn’t have to.”

  Richard jerked when Tikron’s hand landed on his thigh. He was ready to push it away when he caught a glimpse of Mick coming toward the table with a large platter in his hand. Richard actually moved a fraction of an inch closer to Tikron. He was surprised at his behavior, but then again, the whole day had been one in which everything had been upside down in his world, so why change it now? Plus, he’d never had anyone jealous of him before, and honestly, he liked it.

  Mick set the platter of appetizers in the center of the table and a root beer float in front of Tikron without a word. This time he did look at Richard with pursed lips. Richard just smiled. Oh, he really, real
ly liked it. He winked at Mick, then took in the display of fried and baked foods before him.

  “This looks good.” He contemplated his choices, then picked up a tortilla chip, dipped it in a white-and-green sauce-looking dish, and took a bite. The flavor of warm cheese, spinach, and artichoke hit his taste buds, and he practically groaned with how delicious it was.

  TIKRON watched in fascination as Richard explored the array of foods on the platter. For the first time he got a glimpse of what a sensualist Richard was, the way he touched the food, savored it—practically groaning in pleasure—the way he licked his fingers. There was even more to Richard than Tikron had first realized.

  Tikron picked up a small piece of bruschetta between his fingers and held it out to Richard. “You have got to try this.” Richard started to reach out to take it, but Tikron moved it past Richard’s hands and held it close to his lips.

  Richard looked unsure, his eyes moving from side to side as if he were worried someone would see him. “Haven’t you ever had a man feed you before?” Tikron asked.

  Richard shook his head. Tikron brushed the bread against Richard’s bottom lip and he opened up and took the offering, eyes locked with Tikron’s. Tikron lowered his gaze to watch Richard’s mouth. He swallowed down a groan when Richard’s pink tongue snaked out and slid over his bottom lip. Tikron ached to taste those full lips, feel them against his.

  “It’s very good,” Richard remarked, his cheeks a cute shade of pink as he sat back on his stool.

  “Mmm-hmm.” Tikron nodded toward the chips and artichoke dip. “How was that?”

  “It’s very good as well. Try some,” Richard said as he pushed the dish toward Tikron.

  Tikron didn’t take the offer. Instead he opened his mouth. Once again Richard glanced around the room. The color in his cheeks deepened as he scooped up a good amount of dip on a chip and fed it to Tikron. Such a simple act, but one that made Tikron ridiculously happy. He’d known there was much more to Richard. He’d seen the sadness and loneliness in his expressive hazel eyes, and although he’d protested to the contrary, Richard craved human contact.

  He chewed slowly, enjoying the flavor and the way Richard kept looking at him from under long lashes. “You’re right. It’s very good.” He wiped his mouth on his napkin, then took a sip of water to wash the last of the chip down. “Tell me, does anyone ever call you anything other than Richard?”

  “Why would they? It’s my name.”

  “Because it’s so formal. I see you as a Rich, or better yet, Richie.”

  “Ugh, I hate the name Richie. Makes me sound like a little kid. My grandmother’s friends at the nursing home used to call me that. They always wanted to pinch my cheeks.”

  “Well, they do look pinchable,” Tikron teased. He lowered his voice and whispered, “Kissable too.”

  “You do that on purpose,” Richard protested.

  “Do what?” Tikron asked innocently.

  “Try to embarrass me.”

  “Why would I want to do that? I’m being completely honest here. I’d love to kiss your cheeks—other things too, but I’ll behave and leave those details for a more private setting.”

  Richard studied him for a moment. “I just don’t get you at all. Why are you so interested in me?”

  “Because I find you attractive, interesting, and you need some fun in your life. And trust me, I am just the man to give you what you need.”

  “And what do you get out of it?” Richard countered.

  “The same thing you do.” Richard cocked his head. When he continued to stare without responding, Tikron added, “Happiness.”

  A young girl with purple-tinted hair and a weary expression arrived at the table with two plates. “Steak and eggs?”

  Tikron lifted his hand and she set the plate in front of him, then the plate with the burger in front of Richard before rushing off. Richard watched her leave, and when he turned around, he looked exceptionally pleased.

  “What’s that look for?” Tikron inquired.

  “Oh, nothing,” Richard said, his grin growing.

  Tikron smiled back. He didn’t need to press. He hadn’t missed the way Richard had sized up Mick or the disapproving looks he was giving the waiter. Tikron was flattered, but he also knew it wasn’t something Richard would want to discuss. Instead he picked up his fork and knife, cut a big hunk of steak—it was cooked perfectly—and brought it to his mouth. Before taking a bite, he said, “I could ask you the same thing, you know?”

  Richard shifted the appetizer plate to make more room on the table, then spread his napkin on his lap. “Come again?”

  “Why you’re interested in me?”

  “Have you really given me a choice?”

  “Sure I have. You could have easily said no.”

  “I have, several times,” Richard reminded him. “You’re a very persistent man.”

  “I suppose that’s true. I always have been, but especially when I really want something. You ask me why you, almost like you’re shocked I’m attracted to you. But with my messed-up mug, I’m the one who should be shocked you’re attracted to me.” He dipped his toast in his eggs, the yolk running out, and he sopped up a good amount. “And you are attracted to me,” he said with a wink, then popped the toast into his mouth.

  Instead of denying or confirming his attraction, Richard asked, “If you don’t mind me asking, how did you receive the scar?”

  “Someone thought I would be better off without my face. They weren’t all that fond of the rest of me either. I’m lucky the scar is all I got from the encounter.”

  “That doesn’t scare me at all,” Richard said in a dubious tone. “Do you often put yourself in dangerous situations?”

  “Not as often as I used to. It’s a good thing people are a bit more accepting of my particular talents these days.”

  “And other than being persistent, what, pray tell, are those talents that put you in peril and have people wanting to slice off your face?”

  “Being a warlock,” Tikron said matter-of-factly. He took another bite of his breakfast/dinner and waited to see how Richard would try to spin his denial this time.

  “That sounds much more interesting than being a mathematician. My job may be seen by some as boring, but at least I don’t have people trying to slice off my face,” Richard remarked without missing a beat.

  Tikron gawked at him for a moment, then burst out laughing. Richard joined in, the sound like music to Tikron’s weary soul. “I’m beyond pleased that you’re finally starting to accept that magic is real.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far, but after the last few days, I’m at least contemplating the possibility. I went the doctor—”

  Alarmed, Tikron stiffened. “Are you okay? Are you sick?”

  “Yes, I’m okay, and no, I’m not sick, quite the opposite actually,” Richard said flatly.

  Relief washed through Tikron. “I’m not sure why you don’t sound happy about that, but I’m ridiculously so.”

  “No, it’s not that. It’s just…well”—Richard shrugged—“that means I’m not crazy or ill, so it’s feasible there is some validity to your magic.”

  Tikron raised his hands over his head. “Woo-hoo! I have opened your eyes.”

  “Shh, you’re making a scene,” Richard whispered. A slight smile curled his upper lip.

  “Sorry. I did promise to behave, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, you did.” Richard wiped the corners of his mouth with his napkin, then dropped it on his empty plate.

  At that moment, Mick stopped by the table and picked up their dishes. “Can I get you anything else?” He obviously had gotten over the last snub Tikron had given him, because he completely ignored Richard while he raked his eyes up and down Tikron’s body. Tikron didn’t need to be a mind reader to know what Mick was actually offering.

  “Just the check. I have everything else I need right here.” He cut a glance toward Richard for emphasis.

  Mick sighed dramatically, then walked
away. Richard watched him leave, then turned to Tikron and stabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “Someone really needs to teach that guy some manners.”

  “I could turn him into a toad,” Tikron offered.

  Richard’s expression became thoughtful, as if he were actually contemplating allowing Tikron to use magic, even though he still wasn’t completely accepting its existence just yet. Maybe he was, because he waggled his brows at Tikron and said, “At least give him the warts.”

  Sometimes the only thing you can believe in is magic.

  Chapter Fourteen

  STEPPING outside, Richard stopped short, shocked by the especially heavy crowds. Then it dawned on him. He remembered reading something about sidewalk sales in the Events section of the local newspaper, hence why his normally quiet Saturday morning walk was full of chatter and throngs of people.

  “Maybe we should try this again later,” he whispered to Albert.

  Albert tugged on the leash, not caring the least about all the people. His favorite bush to mark was obviously calling to him. It wasn’t only Albert’s bladder that had Richard fighting the crowds. He was hoping to see Tikron.

  Oh, how quickly life could change. Just over a week ago he’d bumped into Tikron, annoyed by the man’s pushy demeanor. Richard had done everything to deter the unwanted attentions, and now, after one date, here he was hoping to get a glimpse of him. He’d slept little the night before, which, come to think of it, was becoming the norm since first laying eyes on Tikron Amorith. He had to admit, if only to himself, for the first time in his life, he was enjoying thoughts that didn’t revolve around mathematics. He was actually starting to set aside logic and ignoring the numbers and percentages when it came to Tikron. It reminded him of something Tikron had said: nothing is impossible. Richard was starting to believe that statement, since two weeks ago he’d have said going on a date with Tikron was an impossibility, and yet he’d gone. Not only had he accepted the invitation, he’d had a great time.