6. Riley

6

RILEY

"The festival is charming. And they do something similar for other types of forest animals too?" Riley asked as he and Brandon walked through the art displays in the library foyer. "You did a great job with the reading."

Brandon blushed a little, which Riley thought was adorable. "Glad you enjoyed it. The kids really like the stories, and it's fun to make them laugh."

"You did a great moose voice," Riley told him.

Brandon started coughing and held up a hand. "I'm okay. Just swallowed wrong."

Phone sex the previous night seemed to shift things between them, breaking the ice and making both men more comfortable with physical contact. Holding hands outside didn't really work with gloves and mittens, but they walked close enough that their shoulders bumped, and at the diner, their knees touched beneath the table, and fingers brushed at every pretext.

Riley's horoscope confirmed what he already knew—that he particularly liked being touched on the arms, throat, and neck and enjoyed sharing a good conversation. So far, Brandon was naturally checking off all the boxes.

"I think this is the best meatloaf I've ever eaten." Riley wiped his mouth and looked at his empty plate. "Is everything on the menu that good?"

Brandon nodded. "Yeah, and the place is always busy, so I'm not the only one who agrees."

"I'd plump up like a hibernating bear if I ate like this all the time," Riley admitted.

"That's the beauty of winter sports. Works off all that good food." Brandon's bright smile made Riley's heart race.

"I plan to take you up on that offer to teach me to cross-country ski. I don't think I'd dare try downhill, but I can shuffle my feet on flat ground with the best of them."

Brandon laughed. "There's a little more to it, but you've got the main idea. Our trails are kept in good shape year-round, so there are safe places to go without worrying about getting lost. And you're not the only one who doesn't want to go flying down the side of a mountain."

After dinner, they headed to the theater to catch part of the Bullwinkle marathon. Despite a great meal and dessert, they both had room for popcorn and soda. Riley picked seats in the back row where they could hold hands and sneak a few kisses like teenagers.

No one was seated near them, so more than once, Riley used the popcorn bucket to hide his hand sliding high on Brandon's thigh, brushing against his crotch. He didn't try to push his luck since neither of them wanted to cause a disturbance, but they traded furtive glances full of promise.

"I never realized how many episodes there were," Riley said when they finally headed back outside a few hours later.

"Watching all of them takes about fifteen hours." Brandon fell into step beside him. "I looked it up. And the ticket is good for three days, so we can come back for more."

"I remember catching the reruns on cable now and then. I never realized how many of the jokes were for grownups."

"Yeah, my mom always laughed louder than I did, and then she'd say—‘you'll understand when you grow up,'" Brandon replied. "And she was right."

Riley liked that the conversation flowed naturally, and they didn't have trouble finding things to talk about. He thought about Brandon's confession about not being able to read his thoughts and found it didn't bother him. I'd rather talk about what I'm thinking or feeling than just "think" at each other anyhow.

All they lacked was privacy to follow up on their racy conversation from the night before. Riley understood that in a small town where everyone knew everyone else, making out in the men's room was a bad idea. In good weather, they might have been able to find a secluded spot outside, but Riley didn't fancy freezing his bits off when he had definite ideas of how to put them to use in the near future.

Going back to his motel was a possibility, but he wasn't quite ready to explain his security precautions. Not yet. I don't want to admit that I come with complications.

"Next time, I'll cook," Brandon offered as if he really could read Riley's thoughts—or maybe something in his body language gave him away. "My cabin isn't far, and we could watch a movie or play video games…or something…afterward."

Riley gave his mittened hand a squeeze. "I vote for ‘or something.'"

Brandon grinned. "I was hoping you'd say that. I'm not a gourmet cook, but I can put a decent meal on the table."

"I don't need anything fancy," Riley replied. "I'm all about the company."

Brandon paused and turned toward him, bending down to sweep a kiss across his lips. "I like the sound of that. Maybe next time, you can spend the night so we don't have to worry about getting you home safely."

"I think that sounds like a plan."

Reluctantly, they said goodbye at Riley's SUV. He had an early appointment with Dr. Jeffries the next day, and although Riley would have gladly foregone a few hours' sleep for living out some of his fantasies with Brandon, the town was closing up for the night.

"Drive safely." Brandon nuzzled Riley's ear as he dropped his voice. "See you for lunch tomorrow."

Riley kissed him, reaching up to run his hand over the back of Brandon's head and toying with the fringe of dark hair that peeked out beneath his hat. "Sleep tight."

Riley sat in the SUV for a moment and reviewed the last few hours of security camera clips, relieved that no one except housekeeping had been near his room. Anxiety and a fear of heartbreak came with being a Gemini, and Riley freely admitted he had both.

When he walked into the room, he saw the message light blinking on the phone and frowned, wondering what was wrong. He dialed the office, expecting to get a night clerk.

"Do you have a minute?" Steve, the motel manager, answered. "I need to talk to you about something."

"Sure," Riley replied, feeling his good mood dissipate. "I'm in the room now."

"Be right over."

A few minutes later, Riley let Steve into the room. "What's up?"

Steve held up his phone, showing photos of the security cameras Riley had placed outside his room trained on the door. "Want to explain? Before I involve the sheriff?"

Riley sighed and sat down on the end of the bed. "I have a stalker ex-boyfriend. I filed a restraining order with the sheriff as soon as I came to town. Hopefully, he won't find out where I am or bother to drive this far if he does. But I'm afraid of him, and I wanted to be able to tell if anyone had been messing with the locks."

Steve was quiet for a moment. "Show me where all the cameras are."

Riley pointed out the small devices, wondering if he'd be packing his things and going back to the larger hotel.

"Nothing concealed or recording any other rooms?" Steve asked.

Riley shook his head. "No, you can clearly see them. On the peephole and on my room's door and window. He noted the door alarm and other precautions. "I'm not making a sex tape, and I'm not trying to infringe on anyone's privacy. I came to Fox Hollow to make a fresh start, and I'm scared my ex will try to interfere."

Steve ran a hand over his face as if deliberating what to say next. "I'm going to talk to the sheriff and our lawyer. I understand your situation, and I want you to be safe. I also have to protect the privacy of our other guests. Someone else might not have the same motives installing portable cameras, and it could get ugly."

"Do you want me to leave?"

Steve shook his head. "No. Sit tight—it's already late. I'll talk to the sheriff in the morning. We'll figure something out. I'm sorry that you have to worry about something like that."

"Thanks."

When Steve left, Riley fell back on the bed staring at the ceiling as his thoughts swirled.

I've got no reason to think Tate would look for me here. Or to think that he'd bother with the long drive, even if he found me. But I can't stop looking over my shoulder.

The next morning, Riley left the cameras in place when he went to his appointment with Dr. Jeffries at the Fox Institute. One of the things he already liked about the Institute was the collegial atmosphere and how well people seemed to get along. He didn't need to be psychic to pick up on good vibes and the absence of a tense undercurrent that was so often a part of other workplaces.

"You look like you've got a lot on your mind." Jeffries joined Riley in the conference room before the session started.

Riley debated how much to say, but since they were going to be spending the morning exploring the bounds of his psychic immunity, he figured he needed to explain what had happened at the hotel and his worries. Jeffries listened without interrupting and wore a concerned expression.

"Thank you for trusting me with your story," Jeffries replied. "I'm sorry that you've had to deal with that situation, although I know it's more common than people like to believe. I'd like to help any way I can. First, because you deserve to be safe. And second, if you're stressed and feel unsafe, the research project isn't going to be accurate."

"What did you have in mind?" Riley's heart soared when he realized the professor was willing to be an ally.

"I understand Steve's concerns, but liability cuts both ways. If you were to misuse the cameras to spy on other guests, laws exist to deal with that. Given your situation with your ex, precautions seem to me to be in order."

"Thank you." Riley felt relieved that the professor understood.

"For what it's worth, I can put in a good worth with Steve and the sheriff. If you can't work something out with the motel, I can see about getting you a room in our dorms. I arranged the motel for you because it gives you more privacy and an efficiency apartment. The dorms are just that—dorms. But it's an option. Don't worry—we'll find something that works."

Riley appreciated Jeffries's support and that he understood the risk. That went a long way toward easing Riley's worry, and while it didn't remove the threat, it did mean he wouldn't have to face it alone.

Today's session had Riley in the conference room meeting with psychics from the Institute, all with different abilities. Without being told in advance he was immune, they were supposed to try to figure out his gift, and the conversations would be recorded.

Riley felt oddly nervous as he waited for the first psychic. He had always considered being unreadable to be a deficiency, so having Jeffries regard it as a type of psychic ability made him reevaluate. It would be nice to see it as a plus instead of a minus.

His first visitor was a short, gray-haired woman named Cora, who reminded Riley a bit of his grandmother. She wore a sweater decorated with cheery snowmen over jeans and Timberlands.

"Well now, you're a puzzle," Cora said once they were seated. She raised her chin as if to see him better and focused intently. "What's going on with you, hmm?" After studying him intently, her eyes narrowed.

"You're conscious, so I should be able to pick up something from your thoughts, but I can't. Pick a word and think it over and over."

The first one to pop into Riley's thoughts was "moose" and the image of the elegant buck he had spotted outside the hotel. He closed his eyes and silently repeated the word as he kept the image in mind.

"Odd. Your body language says you're relaxed and cooperative, but you're not ‘transmitting.' There's a peaceful blank where your thoughts should be," Cora added. "I will say that you're a nice change from most people—their thoughts are a loud, jumbled mess most of the time. It's…calming."

Over the next two hours, Riley met ten different psychics with varied abilities. Some were telepaths, while others read auras, told fortunes, or used casual touch to make a mental contact. They all were surprised at how closed off Riley was to them—and how little their gifts could tell them about him.

"I'm good at body language, and I can pick up some clues from that, but I'm not hearing or seeing anything from your mind," a seer named Jim told Riley. "I've never met anyone like you."

Brandon said he could pick up emotions even if he couldn't read my thoughts. Do we have some kind of special link? He remembered Brandon saying "mate" in his dream. I thought that was only a shifter thing. Isn't it?

Jeffries came to join him for a lunch of cold Italian sub sandwiches, kettle chips, and chocolate chip cookies. For having spent the morning being stared at without doing much else, Riley was surprised at how hungry he was.

"I've gotten reports back from the psychics," Jeffries said in between chips. "Now I want to hear your side of things."

Riley considered for a moment and sipped his Coke. "Other than feeling like the main attraction in a sideshow? Come see the curious case of the Silent Man," he joked.

"I'm sorry if we made you feel like that," Jeffries apologized.

Riley made a dismissive gesture. "It's not like you sold tickets. They were all very polite—and extremely interested. Some of them tried so hard to connect I thought smoke might come out of their ears. But mostly, I just got stared at a lot by rather frustrated people who couldn't figure out how I fritzed their radar."

Jeffries laughed. "I wouldn't have said it that way, but you're absolutely right. You're quite the mystery, and I suspect you'll be the talk of the Institute until someone comes up with a theory."

"Gotta be famous for something, I guess." Riley took a bite of his pickle spear.

"Other than being stared at, did you notice any other feelings or sensations?"

Riley thought for a moment, replaying his memories. "Not like when I'm with Brandon."

Jeffries raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What's different?"

Riley felt his cheeks color. Besides the fact that I'm gone for him? "Brandon told me he's telepathic, but he can only get a surface read of my emotions. None of the people I met with here mentioned that."

"Interesting."

Riley took a deep breath for courage. "Do you believe in fated mates?"

Jeffries gave him an evaluating look. "Tell me what that term means to you, and I'll give you an answer."

Riley balled up his empty sandwich wrapper and stuffed it into the chip bag. "You've said Fox Hollow is a haven for psychics—and shifters. I know psychics are real, so I'm going to have to assume shifters are too. Maybe it's just in romance books, but ‘fated mates' or soulmates are two people who are somehow destined to be together—sometimes in more than one lifetime. It makes for a great story, but is it real?"

Jeffries paused for a moment to finish his bite of sandwich before replying. "Yes."

"Really? Do both people have to be a shifter for it to work?" Riley hadn't expected how his heart soared at the possibility.

"No, although it might be more common—or at least more widely recognized—in the shifter community," Jeffries answered, and Riley had the feeling the man was choosing his words carefully.

"Brandon and I have been seeing each other since I came to town," Riley said. "It's going well, I think. He's a great guy, and I feel safe with him. He told me about his telepathy, and that's when it came up that he could still pick up on my emotions, and…I know this is going to sound crazy, but I had this dream where he said we were mates."

"Have you ever had any reason to think someone else close to you with an emotional attachment has been able to read anything from you?" Jeffries looked intrigued but seemed to ignore his comment about mates.

Riley thought back over his past relationships. Some fizzled, others went down in flames, and then there was Tate.

"I'm pretty sure my stalker ex is a psi-vamp."

That got Jeffries's attention. "Can you explain why?"

"Tate was an emotional rollercoaster. The highs were high, and the lows were awful. We either were head-over-heels or fighting. I noticed that even during the good times I always felt more tired than usual, worn out," Riley said. "Then I realized that Tate was orchestrating the situation, either love bombing or starting nasty fights. I was fading, and he seemed to be having a grand time. So I broke it off, and then I ran away. To here."

Jeffries drummed his fingers on the table. "That makes sense because a psi-vamp works differently from most psychics. He wasn't reading your thoughts; he was tapping into your energy. Emotions give ‘flavor' to energy, especially extremes like joy or anger. It didn't matter that you're a psychic immune—that wasn't the source of his ‘food.'"

Riley couldn't resist a shudder. Now that he was out and away from Tate, he remembered how he sometimes felt not just worn down but consumed. I didn't realize it was literal.

"Have you ever had something odd happen with anyone else where there's been a strong emotional bond?"

"I'll have to think about it, but not off the top of my head," Riley answered.

Riley knew Jeffries was trying to help him, but he also recognized that his situation clearly intrigued the man on an academic level. If there are other immunes like me—and there must be—maybe he can find out something that helps them too.

"Being immune might have been what made it possible for you to get away from him," Jeffries said. "He could feed off your emotions, but he couldn't use your deepest thoughts against you."

Riley hated the idea that his situation with Tate could have been worse. It was bad enough. I felt like I barely saved my skin.

He struggled to come up with the right way to word his next question. "How do I know if someone's a shifter?"

"Unless you see them shifting or they tell you, you don't." Jeffries sank his balled-up wrapper in the trash can in a neat dunk. "Around here, it's safest to assume people are unless told differently. In case you wondered—I'm not."

"I'm guessing that ‘outing' people as shifters is impolite."

"Very. If they want you to know, they'll tell you. Not everyone in Fox Hollow is a shifter, but nearly everyone has some sort of magic or ability. The few who don't are family to someone who does."

Is Brandon a shifter? Are the books right, and shifters recognize their mate when they meet? But if he believes we might be mates, why hasn't he told me? He trusted me enough to tell me he's a telepath.

Then again, since he can't read me, maybe he isn't sure enough of how I feel about him yet. We haven't been seeing each other long.

"What's it like, knowing which of the people around you can become something else?"

Jeffries smiled. "A bit like living in an enchanted forest, at least that's how I think of it. Once you know, you can pick up tidbits of their other side in their personality. Then it seems like hiding in plain sight."

Riley had promised to go to the comics store to meet a couple of Madden's friends for a role-playing game after he finished at the Institute. He thought about how Madden's twitchiness reminded him of a squirrel and how Sherri at the café made him think of a bear.

Maybe they really are.

"How does the shifter thing work? I'm not asking for secrets—I don't want to assume that what I've read in romance books is true."

"Definitely smart to challenge your sources." Jeffries chuckled. "Shifters can change at any time of the month, as opposed to weres, who can only change around the full moon. Shifters are born; weres are created, usually by a bite or the transfer of blood."

So werewolves are real too? I mean, why not?

Riley felt his world tilt a bit on its axis. I already believe in psychics and psi-vamps. How much more of a stretch is it to believe in shifters and weres?

"Some types of shifters can turn into any living creature, while others have a particular ‘familiar' that is their changed shape," Jeffries said. "All of the shifters I'm aware of in Fox Hollow fall into the last category. They can change into one animal form, always the same. Wolves, foxes, bears are what most people think of—but shifters can also be squirrels, otters, possums, or raccoons, for example. Wild animals, usually, although we do have a couple of goat shifters."

How cool is that? If Brandon really is a shifter, I wonder what he is? Something big, probably. A deer? Do they have reindeer around here? Elk? Maybe a moose.

As soon as he thought the word "moose" something settled in his mind, validating the choice.

I've got a major crush on a moose. Moose shifter. He thought about the festival he and Brandon had just attended and the Bullwinkle movies. I just went to a moose festival with a guy who can turn into a moose. That's entirely too meta. No wonder he was laughing at the jokes.

When was he going to tell me? What do I have to do to earn his trust?

Jeffries cleared his throat. "I don't have to read your mind to figure out the drift of what you're thinking. People in these parts generally reveal their shifter side once they know and trust you well enough to keep their secret. That's a big reason why we're so careful about who can live here year-round. There's a lot of hiding in plain sight that goes on, but for the most part, folks here are proud of who and what they are and don't like to hide it."

"That's a lot to think about," Riley admitted. "Thanks for trusting me."

Jeffries smiled. "We have a lot of folks who talk about fate and destiny. I don't think it's a coincidence when people are drawn to Fox Hollow. They often find out it's where they're meant to be."

Since he had finished the research for the day at the Institute, Riley headed to the comics shop. He was a little early, but that gave him time to browse. Maybe picking up some new manga will take my mind off Tate. Or maybe Madden can get me hooked on a comics series.

When he arrived, Madden was talking with two men Riley hadn't seen before, a taller, muscular man with dark hair and brown eyes and a more slightly built blond with bright blue eyes.

"Hi, Riley! I'd like you to meet Mico," he indicated the taller of the two men, "and Jack. By the way—Jack is responsible for those awesome donuts at the café."

"I'm already your devoted fan," Riley said. "Your donuts are amazing."

"Mico and Jack are regulars here," Madden told Riley. "We play RPGs once a week—it would be great if you could join us." The two men enthusiastically agreed. "In fact, we're just about to start a game. Want to join us? It'll take about an hour."

"Sure." Riley was pleased to be asked. He got a good feeling from Mico and Jack. Puzzles, games, and good conversations were so Gemini. After having to give up things he liked to keep peace with Tate, Riley loved embracing his real interests again.

"Riley's new in town—he's going to be playing his guitar at the hotel a couple of nights a week," Madden told the others.

"That's you? I've seen posters. Cool. We both work nights, but we'd love to see you play when we have the chance," Jack said, and Mico nodded in agreement.

After his conversation with Jeffries, Riley felt certain that Madden was a squirrel shifter. Mico's shadowed eyes made Riley think of a raccoon. And Jack's pale skin and hair and long fingers made him wonder—possum?

Jeffries said it was like living in an enchanted forest. I feel like I've walked into a fairy tale. He felt wonder and a surge of gratitude at finding such a special place. I think I want to stay here. Could Brandon be the one for me?

Madden set up the gaming table in the back. His boyfriend Elias came out to run the register while Madden and the others gamed. Jack put out a box of donuts and a large container of coffee from the café.

"Fuel for the journey," he told them with a grin.

Mico explained the rules to the adventure game while Madden dealt cards and arranged the playing pieces. Riley had always been intrigued by RPGs but had never been able to interest Tate in playing. Now, he had the chance to indulge his interests and make new friends.

Madden ran the game, combining strategy, humor, and whimsy. The three of them had clearly spent a lot of time together and had an easy rapport, but they made an effort to include Riley and make sure he was part of the conversation.

Halfway through, Riley felt himself relax. No one seemed to care much about winning beyond some friendly competition. The others traded good-natured jibes without malice. He realized this was the most relaxed he had felt, other than when he was with Brandon, in a very long time.

The game ended too soon, and Riley was surprised that the hour moved so quickly. "That was a lot of fun. I'd love to play again soon."

"We can arrange that." Madden grinned. Mico and Jack, clearly a couple, said goodbye, and Riley lingered to help Madden put things away.

"Something on your mind?" Madden asked as he closed up the box and put it on a shelf behind the counter.

"That was a lot of fun. Your friends are great," Riley said, feeling wistful.

"I'm sure they can become your friends too," Madden replied. "They're both pretty chill. The only difficulty is finding times to get together since they work nights. Mico drives a garbage truck, and Jack does his baking on the night shift. By the way—Mico's also an artist. Found objects. He does some really cool stuff."

"I like that sort of thing." Riley loved quirky things and offbeat art, another point of contention with Tate.

I'm done with Tate. What he thought doesn't matter anymore.

"So where are you headed now?" Madden bustled around, putting items back where they belonged and straightening displays.

"I'm supposed to meet Brandon and go for a short hike, then get dinner," Riley said. Something in his tone must have caught Madden's attention since the other man turned to look at him.

"Brandon, huh? He's a good guy."

"We seem to hit it off," Riley confessed. "I'm looking forward to seeing him again."

Madden turned to look at him and tilted his head. In Riley's mind, he could almost imagine a squirrel tail flicking behind him. "Have you thought more about whether you're staying in Fox Hollow?" His tone took on a protective edge.

"I'm considering that. I really like it here."

"Whatever you decide, make sure you're clear to Brandon so you're both on the same page," Madden warned.

He's worried about Brandon getting hurt if I don't stay. I've fallen for him. Does that mean Brandon is falling for me too?

He sighed. "I had a bad breakup a while ago. So I'm a little gun-shy. But I like Brandon enough to get past it. I just hope he feels the same way."

"Brandon doesn't always say what he's thinking or feeling right away," Madden said. "Be patient, and if there's a spark, it'll happen. As for you being skittish—Brandon's a real catch for someone who knows how to treat him right."

"I would never do anything to hurt Brandon," Riley said. "He's a big part of what I like here."

"As long as we're clear." Warning delivered, Madden brightened. "Go have fun on your hike. And come back whenever you can—I'll have some new manga in on Thursday."

Riley mulled Madden's comments as he drove to the trailhead where he was supposed to meet Brandon. He brightened when he saw Brandon's Suburban. Brandon was leaning against it, toying with his phone.

Riley admired Brandon's long legs and broad shoulders, and the careless mop of brown hair that always seemed to fall into his eyes. Yep, I'm properly smitten.

"How's your day been?" Brandon greeted him and gave Riley the once-over. Riley hoped Brandon liked what he saw.

"Busy. I can tell you while we walk. And Madden says hello."

Brandon glanced at him. "Oh, yeah?"

Riley filled him in about the game with Mico and Jack, but he left out the details of his conversation with Madden. From the slight blush that crept into the tips of Brandon's ears, he wondered if Brandon had also confided in Madden about him.

"I'm glad you found the store. Those are all good guys, and it's a great hangout. Come on—we don't want to lose the light. It's a short hike, but we want to see where we're going."

Brandon led the way, and Riley followed behind, enjoying the view of his guide's firm ass and muscular legs as much as the forest surrounding them. Brandon kept up a constant patter, and Riley figured he was going into "guide mode." He listened as Brandon talked about the forest and the types of trees, the way the nearby lakes formed the streams and tributaries.

"Welcome to Buttermilk Falls." Brandon stepped aside so Riley got the full view.

A torrent of water tumbled over rocks, churning up white froth that earned the name. Snow clung to the edges, but the roiling water remained ice-free. It wasn't Niagara, but it was still a nice payoff for a short, easy hike. Riley took in a deep breath of balsam and felt the cold spray on his face.

"Very nice. The forest is beautiful. Thank you for bringing me here."

"You did great on the hike—and it gets easier with practice," Brandon told him.

Riley's Gemini soul warmed at the compliment. This was exactly the kind of quality time he treasured with a partner—something Tate had never given him.

"Thanks. It wasn't as hard as I thought it would be," Riley replied. "You're a good guide. I'd follow you anywhere," he added with a wink.

"There are plenty of short hikes like this if you want to see more." Brandon grinned at the obvious flirtation. "I'd be happy to show you."

"I'm really falling in love with Fox Hollow," Riley admitted. And I'm pretty sure I've already fallen in love with you.

"Next time, I'll take you cross-country skiing. We can practice in my yard so you can get the hang of it without committing to a long trail. When the snow is deep, it's actually easier than trying to walk."

"I'm game," Riley said. "Sounds like a plan. Speaking of snow—what happened to the big storm we were supposed to get?"

"We got a reprieve but not a pass. Apparently, it slowed down, but that just means it'll be stronger when it gets here. We're still on its path," Brandon replied.

"We've still got time for dinner before your gig," Brandon checked the time. "And then if you want—and you're not too tired—we can go back to my place and chill."

Riley reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. "I'd like that a lot."

They ate at the bar at the hotel since the afternoon had slipped away fast. Riley loved how comfortable he felt talking about everything and nothing with Brandon. He didn't need to impress or entertain—just recounting the day seemed to interest Brandon, who was a good listener.

Riley's phone alarm pinged. He leaned in and gave Brandon a quick kiss. "Gotta get ready. Can you stay?"

Brandon nodded. "Absolutely. Can you come home with me tonight?"

The promise in that question sent heat racing through Riley's blood. "Absolutely."

A slow, broad smile lit Brandon's face. "Looking forward to it."

Half an hour later, Riley walked up to the stage with his guitar, pleased that more seats were filled than the night before. Brandon kept his spot at the bar and gave Riley an encouraging nod. Riley didn't know the rest of the people when he sat down to play, but as his first set continued, he saw Dr. Jeffries slip into the room, followed by Madden and Elias.

Despite how busy the day had been, Riley's mood soared, and he channeled his feelings into his voice. He made sure to glance around the room as he sang, acknowledging the audience, but his gaze always returned to Brandon.

Before he went out that morning, Riley had sketched out set notes over breakfast. He made sure he knew the words and had the lyrics on his phone, which had a holder on the mic stand. They were classics, ranging across decades, but guaranteed crowd-pleasers.

Once again, the audience rose to the occasion, clapping along, joining him on the chorus, or enthusiastically doing a call and response. Even having had a busy day, Riley felt his energy rise from their interaction and reflected his joy into his songs.

"Great set," Brandon praised when Riley retreated to the bar for his break. Brandon handed him a ginger ale. "Figured you'd want something to drink."

Riley accepted the glass with a nod of thanks. "Did you like the songs?"

"They're a great match for your voice. The crowd was definitely with you. I'm impressed. You're really good."

Riley felt his cheeks heat with the praise. "Glad you liked it. There are a few more people in the audience tonight than before—maybe word is getting around."

Dr. Jeffries wandered toward them. "Nice job, Riley. I had to stop by and see for myself. I think you'll do well here."

Madden and Elias joined them. "Loved the song choices," Madden enthused with his usual energy. "You picked a bunch of my favorites."

Brandon slipped an arm around Riley. "I think he's a good fit." He added a squeeze for emphasis.

They chatted for a few minutes while Riley sipped his drink, but his phone chime reminded him to return to the stage.

"Knock 'em dead," Brandon told him and gave Riley a kiss on the cheek. If Madden or Elias were surprised, neither showed it.

Several more people drifted in during Riley's second set, filling the bar, if not all the tables. They smiled and tapped their fingers and toes to the music, swaying with the beat. Riley might not be able to read their minds, but their body language gave him plenty of feedback, and their enjoyment fed him energy.

When he finished his second set, he stood and took a bow to the applause. Brandon was waiting for him after Riley packed up his guitar and got his coat.

"Are you too tired?—"

"Are you kidding? After I play, I'm positively buzzed from the crowd's energy," Riley interrupted.

Brandon grinned. "That's what I was hoping you'd say."

They left Riley's Pilot in the hotel lot. Riley piled into Brandon's Suburban with his guitars and a small backpack he had brought from the motel that morning, just in case their plans worked out.

"I'll warn you—my cabin isn't fancy, but it's snug in the winter and has a great view in the summer," Brandon said as they headed out of town.

"Did you build it?"

"Not from scratch. A lot of cabins around these parts were built in the first half of the last century, before the War," Brandon replied. "They built things to last. I got a good deal when the previous owner decided he'd had enough of winter and wanted to move south. I made some adjustments because it wasn't built for someone my size, but the bones of the place were solid."

The "cabin" was more of a cross between a bungalow and a chalet, made of logs with a large stone chimney.

"That looks solid—and warm," Riley said as they climbed out of the SUV.

"Warm enough that if I've got a good fire going, I have to crack the windows even in the winter because it gets very toasty." Brandon angled ahead of Riley so he could open the door.

Riley stepped inside and looked around as Brandon turned on the lights.

"Wow, this is beautiful." Riley looked around. The walls were a combination of logs and tongue-and-groove knotty pine. A large stone fireplace dominated one end of the living room. The wood slat ceiling was open to the beams but not vaulted to conserve heat. Riley thought the overstuffed furnishings looked homey and comfortable.

"It's not trendy," Brandon said. "But it's warm and comfortable in the winter, and the windows have good cross-breezes in the summer."

Bookshelves lined the wall on either side of the massive fireplace, filled with hardcovers, paperbacks, and a few knickknacks. Framed landscape paintings hung on the side walls. Riley had already learned to recognize them as the Hudson River School style.

And absolutely no antlers or taxidermied deer heads.

Because if Brandon is a moose shifter, that would be like me hanging a skull on the wall. Ew.

"I have chili in the slow cooker—hope that's okay," Brandon said as Riley followed him into the kitchen, which had clearly been updated from its original form with modern appliances and butcher-block counters. The aroma of the chili filled the cabin, and Riley's stomach rumbled.

"It smells great. How can I help?"

"The garlic bread is frozen, so it just pops into the oven once that's pre-heated, and I'm going to make a salad. How about just keeping me company?"

"I can handle that."

Riley settled in at the farmhouse-style table and watched as Brandon moved around the kitchen like a pro.

"How did you learn to cook?" Riley asked.

"I got tired of eating crappy food. Seriously—I was tired of takeout, microwaved meals, and frozen dinners and decided it couldn't be that hard to figure out some basic meals. And I was right."

Brandon handed him spoons and napkins to set the table, then put bowls and glasses on the counter.

"I've got water, milk, and beer. Since you're staying the night and neither of us have to drive, I'd say go for the beer," Brandon suggested.

"Sounds like a plan."

Once the garlic bread was ready, Brandon set out toppings and bowls. "Help yourself. If you want something you don't see, just ask."

Conversation stayed light over dinner, talking about favorite television shows and upcoming movies. Afterward, Riley cleared the table while Brandon put leftovers away and loaded the dishwasher.

This feels so comfortable. So…normal. I could get really used to it.

They debated which movie to watch and finally agreed on an action flick they had both seen before, then settled on the couch together. Despite the size of the sofa, they sat so their legs touched from hip to knee, and Brandon put his arm around Riley's shoulders.

That was a little different since Riley was used to being the larger partner, but he leaned into Brandon's side and decided he liked it.

Not long into the movie, Brandon shifted to face him and met his gaze as he leaned forward to kiss him. Riley turned for a better angle and slipped his hand up along Brandon's face. He let his tongue flick along Brandon's lower lip, and Brandon opened to him, deepening the kiss.

Brandon's hands cupped Riley's shoulders, then slid down his arms. One hand splayed on Riley's chest and slowly rubbed circles around his hard nipples.

"This okay?" Brandon murmured. He leaned forward to nuzzle Riley's neck, mouthing his way from ear to collarbone.

"Very okay." Riley was already breathless. He let his hands roam, combing through Brandon's soft brown hair, tracing the line of his jaw, then lower to the firm pecs. "Just so you know—I test regularly, and I'm negative."

"Me too."

For a while, they just made out, kissing and touching, the movie forgotten. Riley got brave and climbed onto Brandon's lap, knees straddling his thighs.

"Still okay?" he murmured.

Brandon gripped his ass and gave his cheeks a squeeze. "Oh, yeah."

Riley could feel Brandon's cock through his jeans, hard and sizeable. He ground down, achingly erect, and Brandon thrust up to meet him. At this rate, kissing, touching, and rubbing was going to make everything over too soon.

"Can I blow you?" Riley drew back from a kiss. Brandon's lust-blown dark eyes met his, eager and hungry.

"Definitely."

Riley slid down between Brandon's knees. Brandon spread his legs and leaned back, giving him access. Riley kept eye contact the whole time as he worked Brandon's belt free, teased the zipper open slowly, and pushed the jeans down to give him full access to his boxer briefs and the prominent package inside.

"Mmmm." Riley leaned in, mouthing along the bulge in Brandon's briefs, taking in his scent, pleased that there was already a wet spot.

"Not going to last real long this time," Brandon panted. He tangled his fingers in Riley's hair, stroking, not pushing. His other arm was spread out along the back of the couch, hand clenching the pillow. "It's been a while."

Riley hummed a response and felt Brandon jolt as if stung. Sensitive. He pushed the briefs down and licked Brandon's long, thick cock from root to head, then began to swirl his tongue over the knob and through the slit. One hand gripped the base since Riley wasn't sure he could deep throat that much without practice, while the other reached lower to fondle Brandon's balls.

"So good," Brandon moaned.

Riley kept a steady rhythm, even though his own cock ached for relief. He coated one finger in spit and slid back to rim Brandon's hole. Brandon cried out, bucked forward, and spilled down Riley's throat.

Riley swallowed as much as he could, losing rivulets down both sides of his mouth. He pulled off with a pop and then licked up what had spilled.

Brandon drew him up and kissed him, tasting himself on Riley's lips.

"Your turn." Brandon unfastened Riley's belt and pulled him to stand between Brandon's knees. That made it easy to peel his jeans and underwear down to his thighs, letting his rock-hard cock spring free.

Brandon pushed his face into Riley's groin and breathed in his scent. His large hands gripped Riley's ass hard enough Riley thought he might see fingerprints and welcomed the reminder. Brandon lightly kissed and nipped his way along Riley's thighs before returning his attention to Riley's weeping cock.

He murmured something Riley didn't quite catch, either "mine" or "mate," before getting to work. His tongue traced the veins and ran up and down the shaft before Brandon closed his lips around the head and began to suck while still keeping his tongue in play.

Riley groaned. "Yes. Like that." He hadn't been with anyone since his breakup, and nothing compared to the real thing.

Brandon set a mind-blowing pace as he slipped two fingers behind Riley's cock and searched for the perfect spot on his taint—right there—that would stroke his prostate deep inside.

Riley came hard, feeling his orgasm rise from his core and sweep over him in a rush. For a few seconds, he thought he had whited out, knees like jelly as if he would collapse if Brandon's hands let go of his ass.

His intense climax made it hard to think, but as the buzz cleared, Riley realized that more than ever before, he felt an intense connection to Brandon through the act, different from what he had experienced with any other partner. Fated mates?

Brandon reached for tissues from a box on the end table to clean them both up and tucked Riley away, doing up his pants. He shifted to lie longwise and pulled Riley back onto the couch with him between his legs.

"Good enough?" Brandon asked, his voice a little deeper than usual.

"Definitely," Riley breathed, still feeling blissed out.

Brandon wrapped his arms around Riley. "I'm glad you're here."

Riley let his head fall back against Brandon's solid chest. "I'm glad we're here together."

I'm over the moon for him. Does he feel the same for me?

Then again, if we're really fated mates, it's supposed to go both ways, right?

They sat intertwined through the end of the movie, with Riley protected within the embrace of Brandon's arms and thighs. He was surprised how much of a turn-on it was to be the "little spoon" and smiled, just letting go and enjoying the sensation. Brandon pressed a kiss to the junction of Riley's neck and shoulder, and added a light nip, then sucked a hickey for good measure.

Mating bite? Marking me? Somehow that's sexy as hell, he thought, remembering some of the stories he'd read.

"Unless you want to fall asleep like this—which would be bad for our necks—we should close up and move to the bed. I promise you it's more comfortable," Brandon said in a low rumble next to Riley's ear.

Riley didn't bounce back for round two as quickly as in his teens but damned if that voice didn't make his spent cock manage to twitch. There's always the morning.

"Comfortable." Riley wiggled his hips against Brandon's groin.

"Save that thought for tomorrow," Brandon chuckled. "Come on. I'll even let you have first crack at the bathroom."

Reluctantly, Riley sighed and stood up, immediately noting the loss of warmth and security from Brandon's embrace. He helped Brandon close up and allowed himself to be led to the back corridor.

"Two bedrooms and a bathroom in between, and a linen closet for good measure," Brandon noted about the floor plan. He opened a door and brought Riley into the master bedroom.

"I made the bed just for you," Brandon teased.

The room looked as comfortable and homey as the rest of the cabin. A few framed personal photos sat on the nightstand, which held a Craftsman-style lamp. More bookshelves were filled with books and DVDs, as well as small items—including a little statue of a moose.

"Do you need a toothbrush? I just went to the dentist last week and have a new one still in the ‘goody bag,'" Brandon offered.

"Actually remembered to bring my own." Riley hefted his backpack. He had grabbed essential toiletries, fresh underwear, and a new shirt and socks, plus sleep pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt. He didn't mention how obsessively he had thought about preparing for their date night, going over and over his packing list.

"I'll lock up while you get ready," Brandon said. "Go ahead and get comfy. The right side of the bed is yours."

The bathroom had clearly been updated with a walk-in shower and a soaking tub big enough to accommodate Brandon—and maybe a partner. Riley washed and changed, taking pride in his still reddened and puffy lips like a memento.

I'm already in deep. I sure hope Brandon feels the same way. Recalling the intensity in Brandon's gaze and the gentle possessiveness in his touch, Riley thought the chances were good that his affection was returned.

Riley finished and took his backpack with him to the bedroom, where he crawled under the covers. The flannel sheets were comfortably worn and soft, and the bedding smelled of balsam, citrus, and something unmistakably Brandon.

He had just gotten comfortable when Brandon came in from the hallway, shirtless in sleep pants covered with a moose pattern. Riley took the chance to get a good look at Brandon's muscular arms and impressive chest. A dark thatch of hair covered Brandon's pecs with a happy trail that led down below the drawstring of his pants.

"Aren't you going to be cold?" Riley shivered in sympathy. Despite the cabin's snug design, it was still winter, as the sound of the wind outside reminded him. Riley was comfortable beneath the covers in his pajamas but decided being naked would need friction and activity to keep him warm.

"I run hot." Brandon shrugged. "Are you comfortable?"

"I'm sure I'll be perfectly warm once you're here." Riley patted the other side of the bed. He looked forward to falling asleep with his head on Brandon's shoulder and an arm across his belly. Brandon nuzzled his face against the top of Riley's head.

"You smell so good," Brandon murmured.

"Must be my shampoo," Riley joked, sleepy and fucked out.

"Nah. It's all you. Maple and anise. Best scents in the world."

Maple and anise? That's what I smell like to him? I wonder if it's a moose thing.

Riley sniffed the air, getting a balsam scent and a musky undertone that was all Brandon. He felt safe, protected, and cherished.

It might be too early to fall in love, but I'm definitely headed that direction. I could get used to the idea of having a mate.

Riley knew he couldn't stay tangled up with Brandon all night without combusting from the other man's body heat, but he resolved to stay close as long as he could.

I haven't been in Fox Hollow long, and I'm already sure I want to stay forever. I've got to figure out a plan. I can't count on my music alone to support me. Maybe Madden and his friends will have some ideas. I've got to stand by my moose.