CHAPTER NINETEEN Tate

Hiding in a parking lot, in a bright-red Porsche in a town of mostly 4x4 trucks, wasn't an easy thing to do. I reclined my seat and continued watching Ranch Furniture from across the street. Summer's longer days weren't helping my cause. I checked my watch. Five-thirty. Just like the last time I'd been there with Tyler.

I spotted three identically dressed adult men, one appearing younger, leaving in an older-model Ford pickup. I waited to see if anyone else was in the quiet store. Their parking lot was empty other than another older truck, this one a Chevy, parked alongside the metal exterior of the building. Thinking the truck was Luke's transportation, I was pleased. At least he was old enough to drive.

"Jesus, Tate," I muttered to myself. "What the fuck are you doing here?" I sank lower in the seat when another car pulled into a spot four spaces away. "You're just going to walk right in and say hello, acting like nothing happened two weeks ago?"

I had zero business being here, considering how the last visit had turned out, but I genuinely needed furniture, and from what I'd noted on two previous trips there, their style was exactly what I was looking for. And, of course, I was desperate to see Luke. I was no better than Tyler, but at least Tyler had made it quite clear what he was after concerning Luke.

Goods from Ranch Furniture were entirely handmade, and that appealed to me. Being handcrafted assured the buyer that no two pieces were the same. The wood had a rough-hewn state to it. Imperfections in the wood weren't hidden to achieve a flawless look, like the big players in the furniture business did. Instead, the craftsmanship seemed to thrive, leaving the wood in its original state; knots, scratches, and all.

I'd seen a unique coffee table that resembled an old mining cart one might see on a rail system in the mines. Rusted steel wheels, with heavy metal brackets on the corner edges, looked clunky and heavy. Just the rustic look I craved for my loft.

They also had a long dining room table that would seat eight to ten people. The tabletop had resin poured over it to a thickness of two inches, the deep scarring of the wood visible beneath. I imagined eight mismatched chairs sitting around the table, adding to the old-world farmhouse chic I was going for.

The final piece I coveted was an oversized, free-standing kitchen cabinet, built with distressed wood, possibly repurposed from a tear-down barn. The cabinet was a minimum of eight to nine feet tall, and quite wide. I had the space in my open kitchen to pull the mammoth piece off.

Feeling like an idiot, or stalker, as I hid out across the street, I put my big boy pants on and started my car. I decided to park like the customer I was, right in their parking lot. I'd apologize again for my last visit if need be. Or maybe I'd ignore the last visit and simply shop like I'd attempted to do twice previously.

My heart seized when I spotted Luke sweeping the floors inside the store. He was so boyish, yet ruggedly handsome. The word big truly came to mind whenever I saw him. I wasn't a small man, but Luke was just built bigger in every single category of male bodies. Broad chest, big shoulders, and a narrower waist, with thick thighs, and an ass that deserved its own zip code.

Every time I'd seen him, he'd worn the exact same clothes, and yet the look may as well be camouflage, considering how I'd stopped noticing how he dressed. What he wore to cover a physical work of art didn't matter. It's what was underneath that drew my desire.

I wondered if he ever wore shorts or a T-shirt. Probably not. I noticed through the window that he'd unbuttoned his top buttons on the white shirt, deciding then and there that I'd never seen whiter fabric.

The overhead doorbell rang the moment I entered the store. Luke had disappeared into the back before I'd finally built enough courage to get out of the car and enter. I was thirty-two and Luke was nineteen, but I'm the one who's acting like a teenager.

"You're here to shop for furniture," I mumbled, checking my reflection in a free-standing, full-length mirror, mentally adding it to my wish list for my bedroom. Breath, Tate.

Maybe ten seconds passed before I heard Luke stepping through the swinging doors from the backroom. I watched as he looked around, and past, different furnishings, sweeping the room with his blue eyes, searching for the customer he'd heard come in.

"Hello, Luke," I said, raising my voice to let him know where I was. "Over here."

Luke came around the free-standing kitchen cabinet I wanted to purchase and stopped dead in his tracks. He appeared shocked to see me standing there. "You came back," he said. "I didn't think you would."

"I'm hoping to finally get some shopping done," I said. "Your furniture is perfect for my loft."

He seemed confused for a second. "You live in a loft?" he asked. "Like above a barn?"

His innocence made me laugh, but not in a mean or taunting way. His question was charming and supported my perception of him. He was sheltered and far removed from the crazy world around him.

"A loft is basically just an apartment with a fancy name, so they can charge you more money for it."

He nodded in understanding, a small grin on his face. "The loft I was talking about wouldn't fit a man of your sort," he said. "Plus, it smells real bad."

He'd referred to my style before, so I knew what he meant by your sort. He often studied me from head to toe when we were around each other. I guessed he may have compared our differences and decided I was different than him in many respects.

"I need some furniture, Luke," I announced, tapping my hand on the huge cabinet I liked. "And I'd like to start with this piece."

"That's a fine choice, sir."

I tilted my head to side-eye him. "I thought we were past the sirs. Please call me Tate."

"So, you're not mad at me?" he asked, hiding his hands behind his back and looking at his feet. "I didn't figure I'd get to see you again, so I best apologize to you now regarding what I did to your friend."

The memory of that night and how focused he looked while he gripped Tyler's hand, bending it back at the wrist, popped into my head again. The person in front of me was absolutely not the same man I'd witnessed through the glass door that night. I hadn't wanted to rehash that visit, but he'd brought it up, thinking I was mad at him, so why not?

"That was not your fault, and I'm sorry for how my associate acted."

"He isn't your friend?" he asked.

"Well, sort of a friend, or an associate, but sort of not, as things turned out," I admitted, making a meal out of a simple yes-or-no question. "Tyler worked for me then and wanted to show me your store."

"He comes in often," Luke said, surprising me with his news. "I wasn't sure at first, but I've been here full time a month now, and I've seen him three times already. The others said he came in a lot before I started full time."

"Wow," I muttered. "I didn't know that."

"He never purchases anything. I thought that was kinda odd," he admitted. "I have my own thoughts about it, but why do you suppose he stops by so often?"

"I wish I had an answer for you," I lied, knowing full well why Tyler frequented the store, doubting my reason was anywhere near his. "Maybe he's saving up to buy one of your beautiful pieces and enjoys looking at them."

Luke said nothing after my take on Tyler's drop-ins. I wondered if he was truly that na?ve, but then again, he probably was regarding the real reason Tyler was such a regular guest of his establishment.

"I didn't mean to hurt him," he acknowledged. "Maybe you can tell him I'm sorry for what I did?"

"You hurt him?" I asked, pretending I hadn't seen what I'd seen.

"I know you saw me through the door, Tate. You don't need to make excuses for me," he said, still shuffling his feet and barely managing to look at me. "Your friend was being inappropriate toward me the last time I saw him here with you."

"How was that?"

"He thinks I don't understand what he means when he asks me about going to his house with him and doing stuff. Sure, I didn't know what gay meant when he asked, but I know what a homosexual is."

"Does he still treat you unkindly?" I asked, feeling like an asshole for allowing Tyler's behavior. "You know, like when he comes in still?"

I hadn't confirmed Tyler still came in, but Luke had mentioned frequent visits just now. "I haven't seen him since that night, but we all know why he comes in," he said.

"You do?"

Even though the store was empty of other customers, Luke leaned toward me, cupping his mouth. "We think he wants to court one of us," he explained. "We don't mind that he comes in because we're taught to be accepting of all people."

To say I was stunned by Luke's words would be an understatement of epic proportions. As it turned out, he did know about gay men. Just not that they were called gay. Perhaps he had little exposure to us, but he knew, nonetheless. That in itself was surprising news.

"Would dating him be a bad thing?" I asked, seriously curious about his opinion.

"It'd be a sin, of course," he began, looking at his hands that he'd moved back in front of him. He looked up again, locking eyes with me. "But if one of us wanted to, well, you know, do something like that, we'd know the risks ahead of time."

The explosion I just heard was inside my brain. What was Luke saying? Was he actually saying what I hoped he was saying? There was no way I'd heard him properly. There had to be a misunderstanding regarding what he'd meant.

I couldn't resist. "Something like what?"

Luke stared at me, his eyes revealing that he'd possibly opened a can of worms. Perhaps his internal thoughts were just that; meant to have been internalized.

"Go somewhere with him," he answered, cautiously looking around again as he answered me.

My pulse raced, fighting the urge to ask another question. There was no way Luke could be talking about dating a man, could he?

"You're talking about one of your team members, one that works here?" I asked, pushing for clarification. "With Tyler? They'd go on a date?"

He shook his head. "Oh no," he corrected. "If you mean date like we mean courting, then no, none of my brothers here would court a man. Not that I know of," he began. "Do you court men, Tate?"

I swallowed hard. I felt he already knew, so I may as well tell him. "Yes. Yes, I do. Not currently though, but if I liked a man that way, I probably would date them." I confessed.

Luke's simple yet direct way of speaking and asking questions was different from most people. He didn't seem to have false pretenses or a hidden agenda. He simply asked questions, gave what appeared to be honest answers, and seemed genuinely interested the entire time. The topic we were currently speaking about would have seemed impossible if we weren't engaged in it right then.

"Did you want to purchase this piece?" he inquired, coming to a screeching halt regarding the topic we'd just been discussing.

I gazed at him, confused by the abrupt shift in topic. "I would," I replied, turning and searching for the long table I also wanted. "And that dining table over there." I pointed at my choice. "Plus, the miner's cart by the front door. And maybe that mirror."

"Delivered?" he asked.

"Yes, please."

"Anything else, Tate?" he asked, backing up and turning toward the cash register. I was too stunned to answer, so he looked back at me, raising an eyebrow in question. "Will that be all?"

I wanted to say I wanted him. And that I wanted to know what it would feel like to be held in his strong arms. I wanted to tell him he was too young for me, and that I should know better, but that I wanted him just the same. I said none of those things.

"That'll be all for now," I said, knowing I'd regret leaving there with so many unanswered questions. "Luke," I said, trying to get his attention, wanting us to continue our talk.

"Yes, sir?"

We were back to sir again. Whatever hidden message we'd danced around a minute ago had passed. Or maybe there'd been no hidden message, after all. I'd obviously misunderstood him.

"Never mind."