love comes

Chapter 1

"Okay, this is the last one." Bruce Shannon leaned back in his old leather chair and rubbed his face vigorously with both hands.What a terrible day.

Not that he had the slightest interest in clichés like Valentine's Day, but he didn't think it was a good day to let ladies know that their beau had found someone else on the eve of the festive season.

Having said that, when did being a private eye have anything to do with having a good life?

Besides, the good old days are a thing of the past.When the stock market hit rock bottom four years ago, the whole world went down with it.What was good for his business was not so good for the human heart.Roosevelt was facing some tricky work.And "jobs" -- which are in short supply these days -- are the crux of the matter.

The low purr brought him back to reality from his thoughts, and he smiled, scratching the chin of the messy black cat: "Just the two of us are doing well, aren't we, sweetheart?"

She raised her voice a little "meow" and twitched her tail in response, prompting Bruce to chuckle, "Well, I guess a tomcat every now and then isn't such a bad thing, don't you?"

He sighed, stood up and closed the files on the desk, determined to put these bad things behind him.He's had enough of his bachelor status on this nasty holiday, but he's still reluctant to board the doomed "marriage" train.

He opened the bottom drawer of the desk, pulled out a bottle of Old Forrest bourbon, filled his whiskey glass, and threw the bottle back.He didn't live far away anyway, and a brisk walk in the cold would somewhat refresh him.

Never mind, another drink will do no harm.After pouring himself a second glass of wine, Bruce took the glass and walked to the filing cabinet, only to find that the door was locked, and couldn't help cursing under his breath.He muttered in frustration, went back to the desk and rummaged through the boxes to find the key.

"That nasty woman! Where did you throw the keys?" He pulled off the receiver and patiently asked the operator to transfer the call.

A pleasant voice came from the other end of the phone, greeting him briskly: "Hello?"

"Gladys, where's the damn key?"

"Bruce, good to hear your voice. It's been a while since we last spoke, let me see, has it been a quarter of an hour?"

"Well, I don't need to call you if you don't hide everything!" Hell, it's his office.Isn't it too much to ask to find what you need in your own office?

"And if by 'hiding everything' you mean putting it all in front of your face? Well yes, Bruce, I'm hiding everything. Face the closet."

Bruce reluctantly complied. "What now?"

"look up."

He looked up, then frowned.From a small nail hung a small black cord with a key attached to the end. "If I'm here to file, how the hell am I looking up?"

There was a chuckle on the other end of the phone.Bruce turned a deaf ear. "You're right, Bruce. I'm so stupid."

"You know...," he said, with his mouth curled sullenly, "if you hadn't left me alone, I wouldn't have to call you a dozen times a day."

"Bruce, I'm married, not a defector."

Bruce could hear the smile in her voice, and he controlled the tantrum child inside: "The wedding was great, by the way. You look...beautiful." There was a long silence on the other side, and for a moment, he thought the phone has been disconnected. "Gladys?"

"I'm still here. Geez, Bruce, that's the best thing you've ever said to me."

"Really, well, don't be so proud. I still think you'd be a fool to marry yourself. But I'm glad it was Harold who married you. He's a decent man."

"You say that because you followed him."

"If I'm going to lose the best secretary I've ever had because of some idiot, he better be worth my sacrifice."

Gladys smiled. "I'm the only secretary you've ever had."

"One thing."

"I don't think so, but thank you for your compliment." Gladys paused for another moment, and when he spoke again, his tone was so gentle that he was embarrassed.He took a swig of whiskey to steady himself. "Bruce, please hire another secretary. You've been alone long enough. Any plans for Valentine's Day? Other than work?"

"Since you already know the answer, why bother to ask, silly girl." A heavy sigh came from the other end of the phone, making him realize that it was time to end the call. "You're a married woman, Gladys, why are you calling suspicious people like me at night? Shouldn't you be knitting baby shoes or something?"

"It was you who called me, you annoying bastard!"

Bruce laughed loudly and scratched the back of Mitten's ear. “是吗?你最好在哈罗德开始怀疑我打算横刀夺爱之前把电话挂了。想把我痛揍一顿的男人已经够多了。”

Gladys snorted in a very unladylike manner. "Don't get confused. Harold knows what I think of you. You're my brother at best, and a nuisance. Also, Harold isn't the type to throw punches at people. He's very gentle."

Needless to say, Bruce was six feet four and weighed a good two hundred pounds, and poor Harold was almost a foot shorter and forty pounds lighter.The guy needs a ladder to knock Bruce's head off, or nibble his ankles to vent his anger.

Note ①: The height is about 1.93 meters, and the weight is about 90.7 kg.

Note ②: Harold is about 1.63 meters tall and weighs about 72.6 kilograms.

"I know what you're thinking," murmured Gladys, "Harold may not come and beat you up, but I will. Cut down on the cigarettes, stop drinking the whiskey, and buy decent food—no coffee. Well, another slice of pie, and sleep."

"Yes, sir," he replied with mock seriousness.At least he could still torture her on the phone.

"Stop making fun of me."

"Yes, sir."

"Bruce?"

"how?"

"Take care of yourself, okay?" she insisted softly.

How did she do it?Now he is no longer in the mood to tease her. "Thanks, Gladys. Good night."

"Good night. Call me if you need any help."

aha! "Remember, this is what you said."

She groaned: "I already regret saying that."

Laughing evilly, he hung up the phone and walked around the office, straightening his desk and watering the fern - he didn't want to kill the second one.Maybe he should have a cactus.Or not, and the cactus probably wouldn't survive in his hands either.

He closed the blinds, quickly put on his suit jacket, then his black overcoat, then picked up the little glove and placed her on his shoulders.

"Ready to go home, little beauty?"

Hearing the cat meow in response, he turned off the light, took his hat from the coat rack, and dropped the lock.He took a cursory look at the reception room, too, before locking it up.Overall, this place is in desperate need of some attention.Maybe it's time for him to place an ad in the paper:

A cantankerous private eye is looking for a mild-mannered secretary with coffee-making skills, a built-in lost-and-found recall and no plans to marry.never.

In addition, non-cat lovers do not disturb.

Yes, he will start to do it tomorrow.Now he's off to pick up some dinner and try to catch tonight's Amos and Andy Show.Maybe he'd even listen to Walter Winchell for a while.Turning up the collar of his coat and pulling the brim of his hat down over his eyes, he reminded himself again to find those damn gloves.Three days before Valentine's Day, the icy air is more chilling down the spine than a room full of ex-wives.Wouldn't it be more reasonable to schedule lovers' holidays in, say, July?Although he doesn't care.In a sense, being alone is a relief.He doesn't need the satisfaction of being in company.

Note ③: "The Amos and Andy Show" was a radio and television sitcom broadcast in the Harlem area of ​​Manhattan, USA during 1928-1960.

Note ④: Walter Winchell, gossip commentator for American newspapers and radio stations.

He crossed the street sullenly, kicked the snow off his shoes at the door of the Clifton Café, and went inside.

"Hey, Cliff, how are you doing?" Bruce sat down at the bar, while greeting the handsome blond man with a wink.Clifton Cafe has the best pies in all of New York City, and this heavenly delicacy is made by Clifton.His good looks add to the flavor of the pie.They were old acquaintances - a good portion of their friendship took place on Bruce's sofa, which always made Cliff blush.

"How are you doing, Bruce?" Cliff returned with a bright smile, and the little gloves "meowed" trying to attract his attention, making him laugh. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. You're okay too." ’” He gave the kitten a gentle scratch, then reached under the bar and took out a large brown paper bag, placing it in front of Bruce.

"A roast beef sandwich with extra beef, potato salad, a pie, a cup of coffee - less cream, and a 'bed before dawn' reminder."

Bruce glared at him. "Gladys called you, didn't he?"

"Of course. She also asked me to replace your coffee with juice, but I just can't bear to take that fun away from a poor man." Cliff said with a smile.The phone rang, and he smirked at Bruce: "I bet you five dollars that she called to make sure you didn't just bring home a piece of pie."

"Five dollars? Who do you think I am, Rockefeller? I don't have that much savings to squander." Bruce said goodbye, and left with his tail between his legs before another round of preaching began.Within minutes, he was back in his little bachelor pad hotel.After picking up the mail, he walked towards the falling apart elevator, when a familiar hoarse voice stopped him halfway.

Note ⑤: John Davison Rockefeller (John Davison Rockefeller, 1839-1937), an American industrialist and philanthropist, is famous for revolutionizing the oil industry and shaping the modern structure of philanthropy. He is the first billionaire in history.

"Mr. Shannon!"

God!Just when he felt that he could finally lay down his burden and take a good rest, boom!The chattering old man showed up like a ghost in some Universal Pictures horror flick.Putting on the most flattering smile he could muster, Bruce turned to face his landlord.The other party seemed to be hesitating whether to see Bruce as a private eye hired by his hotel or as a villain from the bottom of society.When Bruce confirmed it last time, the other party's answer was "neither".But if he had to choose one, he would prefer the latter.

"Hi, Mr. Moyer. What can I do for you?"

"Where's the brunette who used to come here often? Why haven't I seen her again?"

here we go. "She's my secretary, Mr. Moyer. She doesn't work for me anymore. Married herself recently."

"If you weren't walking around reeking of alcohol and cigarettes all the time, and shaved every now and then, she probably wouldn't have kicked you off and married another man. I'm surprised the little brute still Didn't leave you like she did."

God, give me strength, don't let me hit his bald, oily head with a cane.Feeling a twitch in his free hand, Bruce stuffed it into his coat pocket just in case. "Gladys is my secretary."

"What's the matter with you, boy?" He looked Bruce up and down, the weird old man who could see through those ridiculously thick glasses. "I don't want a sissy living in my building," he added tartly.

Yes.Only the best drug bugs, blackmailers, scammers, gangsters and whores are allowed to live in this luxurious building.Bruce has to find a new apartment. "Is there anything I can do, Mr. Moyer?"

"There's a bum who somehow found this place and is sleeping in the hallway. Since he's sleeping on your floor, you're responsible for getting him out."

"Of course," Bruce whispered, wishing the old man would be generous enough to hire a doorman.Bruce took off his hat politely, and headed for the stairs.Glancing back, he saw Mr. Moyer eyeing him suspiciously.Did he think Bruce was going to pry the banister off the stairs?Or did he think he'd relieve himself in a pot of dead gardenias?God.

After climbing to the third floor, Bruce heard the sound of the old man slamming the door of the apartment.Mitten grunted lowly, and Bruce complained too.Only then did he remember that he was supposed to take the shabby elevator.After thinking about every possibility that would allow him to get away with murder, he finally stepped up the steps leading to the eighth floor against the dim light.Sure enough, a black shadow appeared at the top of the steps, and a tightly wrapped person was falling asleep there.

With a simple scan, Bruce got a general idea of ​​the homeless man's situation.Apparently, at some point, the guy was doing just fine financially.Maybe he wasn't very rich, but at least he could afford the once-respectable suit he was wearing and the pair of leather shoes that needed a new sole.A dusty, muddy peaked cap was pulled down over his thick black hair, and the man's face was mostly hidden in shadow, save for his dark, unshaven face. jaw.Whoever he was, he clearly hadn't been on the streets for very long.But then again, how long is long?

"Hey, buddy. Wake up." Bruce pushed the man's shoulder firmly, "You have to go."

The man groaned, then wriggled suddenly, grabbing Bruce's coat with his muddy hands.His eyes are round and the lightest blue Bruce has ever seen, even in this dim light.It wasn't just the color of his eyes that shocked Bruce, but the fear and pain in them.The man was also much younger than Bruce had imagined.Given his dire situation, it's hard for Bruce to say how old he is, but is he probably under 30?

"Slow down," Bruce said softly, "I won't hurt you."

The young man studied Bruce carefully, his expression quickly becoming guarded.His slender shoulders tensed warily, and Bruce figured the kid had suffered a little bit—enough to let him know that Bruce didn't look like a nice guy.

"Relax. I don't know you, and I'm not being paid to do this," Bruce assures him, even though he has no idea why he's doing it.He should have kicked this man out, not chatted with him. "May I have your name?"

"Jess. Jess Scarlet," the young man whispered.Realizing he's still holding onto Bruce, he lets go of him quickly. "Sorry."

The little glove jumped onto Jace's lap, grunting and rubbing his head against him, and Jace couldn't help smiling.What a charming smile.Despite his beard and ragged clothes, his smile was radiant.

Bruce struggled to control his wandering mind and his erratic cat: "Little Glove, you shameless little slut. Stop wagging your tail at other men."

Amused, Jess obliged and turned his attention to her: "She's really nice, isn't she?"

"Let's leave that to people who've had a few stitches." Truth be told, he didn't expect Mitten to be close to anyone but himself and Cliff.Even Gladys has no such distinction.Satisfied with the pampering he was getting, the little glove rolled off Jace's lap and hurried to the door of the apartment, scratching it. "Her Majesty wants to go home."

"I wouldn't blame her," Jace returned with a sad smile.

Ah, damn it, who'd expect Bruce to keep the poor man out of the house?But when did he become so soft-hearted?True, he always gave out a dime or two, sometimes fifty cents, sometimes a dollar, but he couldn't invite in every bum who showed up at his door.The young man tried to stand up, but he lost his balance as soon as he stood upright.Bruce grabs his arm to steady him.

"Sorry," Jace groaned, gathering himself, "I…I need a break."

"Are you okay?" Apart from the obvious distress, the man looked a little pale.

"It's okay, just a little dizzy."

"When was the last time you ate?"

"Uh……"

It doesn't take that long to answer this question.There are a thousand voices in Bruce's head telling him he shouldn't do this, but he ignores them and nods towards the door.

"Why don't you come in, get something to eat, and clean yourself up."

A nervous look crossed Jace's face, making him look even younger. "Why?"

"You're starving, aren't you?"

Jace nodded, looking pitiful.He glanced tentatively at the apartment door, then turned his gaze back to Bruce, "Does your wife mind?"

"The only lady in my house was the one who was yelling to come in," Bruce said with a smile.

"Oh." Jace quieted down, becoming a little uneasy, his eyes fell on the floor, "Do you want me to... repay you?"

"What?" Bruce didn't understand what this guy was talking about at all, until he saw Jace bit his lower lip tightly and his cheeks were flushed, Bruce suddenly realized. "What? No, no! Of course I didn't count on you—God, what the hell have you been through?"

Just as Jace was about to speak, Bruce immediately raised his hand, "I don't want to know. Listen, this is a sandwich. I don't want anything in return, understand? The little glove gave you a pass, so you're welcome in."

Jace, looking relieved, let Bruce drag him into the apartment.After the door opened, they let Her Majesty go first, and then followed through the door, Bruce wondering what the hell he was doing the whole time.What is it about Jess Scarlet that makes him act like a fool?Part of him wanted to find out, and part of him just wanted to pack up and get away.

-TBC-

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