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“Humor me.” Konrad’s almost gentle tone drew Jasper’s eyes up despite himself, and there was something on the other man’s face, but it wasn’t mockery or amusement. Jasper wasn’t sure what to call it. “I feel it’s only fair to be honest, in that I don’t intend to take no for an answer.”

Jasper did a half spin in his chair, laughing under his breath. He spun back to his original place and nodded slowly. “That's, uh. That’s harassment.”

“Try my cooking. After that, you may categorize my persistence as whatever you see fit.”

Fancy and confident.

Konrad stood up and tugged the front of his suit jacket straight, not that Jasper had seen a single wrinkle that needed righting. “I insist on cooking for you, but not on putting you out of your way. So please, whenever it’s convenient for you, just stop in whatever night you want. I will be there. If you wait too long, however, I’ll be forced to come and retrieve you.”

Jasper looked over at Hiyori, because hello, miss owner of the shop, he was being blatantly harassed. She was looking very pointedly at her computer and doing the worst job of not smiling that he’d ever seen.

So, that’s how it was going to be. Thrown to the wolves.

“Sounds great,” Jasper said flatly.

two

Jasper tossed and turned that night. His restlessness was so much that his dogs came to check on him, abandoning the space heater they gathered around in the living room. He lifted his arm and let Corvus lay his head on his chest. Jasper stroked his curly black coat, grounded by the weight bearing down on him.

The rest of the pack took this as permission to join him on the bed and soon he was both surrounded by and blanketed with mutts. His mutts. He took a deep breath. He was used to people trying to get to him; in the tattoo community, he was a fashionable subject. The overnight popularity, the “pretty face” according to the internet, and a distinctive style that used a dense, oppressive amount of black. Never color.

Konrad probably had no idea who he was. Jasper was just the guy who pierced his ear, and yet, Konrad had taken some kind of interest. Jasper couldn’t fathom why.

Fragmented images embedded in his consciousness even as he tried to sleep. Silver and blond hair. Creases at the corner of dark eyes. A gold cross.

By the morning, Jasper had decided to humor the man. Not because he wanted to—god, he really didn’t—but because he didn’t want Konrad to show back up at the shop to retrieve him as promised. Hiyori didn’t need any more ammunition for her crush theory.

So, three days later, on his day off, Jasper found himself driving the hour to Annapolis. His house sat nearly on the Virginia border, and the two dozen acres that accompanied it, many of which were on the lakeshore, made the long commute to work worth it. He didn’t know how to dress for this weird gratitude dinner, so he’d just dressed the way he would if he was going into the shop to sketch.

He stood under the deep red awning of the Dogwood Building, a beautiful piece of downtown Annapolis that had sat empty since the last business to occupy it went under. It was aptly named for the massive, sculpted dogwood tree right in the middle. It was so large and would cost so much to remove that it was just a feature of the building now.

Jasper was starting to wish he’d dressed up; even through the door, he could see the chandeliers and rich velvets inside. He was wearing black skinny jeans tucked into combat boots, and a long black cardigan over a black T-shirt. The sleeves came to his knuckles, not quite far enough to cover his chipped, black-painted nails. He knocked and instantly cringed.

The sound of approaching footsteps wrenched away any hope of retreating.

The door opened, and Konrad Iversen smiled warmly. “Jasper. Please, come in.”

“Sorry to just… show up,” Jasper said, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his cardigan as he walked in.

“I seem to recall that I requested for you to do that very thing. May I take your sweater?”

“No. Thanks.” Jasper’s mouth twitched in the effort of a polite smile.

He looked around, seeing no trace of the boutique that had taken up residence there a few months ago. It had been a hyper-modern, high-fashion ordeal that clashed horribly with the raw brick and deep history of the building.

Tables were covered with plastic sheets, their chairs on top of them turned upside down. The semicircular booths were upholstered with burgundy velvet and trimmed with gold metal filigree where they met the floor. Amber light filtered through crystal chandeliers and fell in glimmering facets across the hardwood.

“Any allergies I should know about?” Konrad asked, pulling the plastic sheet from one of the tables in front of a crescent-shaped booth. He wiped the already pristine tabletop down and produced a votive candle, housed in a glass holder that wasn’t dissimilar to the chandelier.

“Um,” Jasper responded eloquently, watching him light the candle. This felt like way too much. “No.”

Konrad didn’t bat an eye at his awkwardness. “Please take a seat, make yourself comfortable. I’ll bring you an appetizer while I prepare dinner.”

“That’s fine. I mean, no thank you. To the appetizer. I don’t really eat that much, so I doubt I’d be able to eat dinner.”

“Straight to the main course, then.” Konrad smiled and noticed Jasper still standing. “Would you prefer to join me in the kitchen?”

“Sure.”