Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

THEO

It didn't surprise me when Bennett Graham ghosted me the following Friday. In fact, it made me chuckle.

Unlike every previous Friday this spring and summer, there was absolutely no sign of him the week after The Incident . In the spot on the patio table where I'd left his invoice, he'd left me a scribbled note about being in Manhattan for work, as well as an inquiry as to whether or not I'd received electronic payment for the invoice I'd left.

As I held the note, I glanced again at the windows on the back of the big old house. All of them were closed up, which had to mean he was truly out of town. No one around here had the windows closed during this unusually cool week in late June.

I blew out a breath and tried to tamp down my disappointment. After catching him in the middle of the big "O" last week, I'd been looking forward to seeing just how awkward and blushing the man could become. I completely understood why he'd be too embarrassed to show his face, but I wished he'd realized just how much it hadn't offended me.

I'd liked it. I'd more than liked it.

And I wanted a repeat as soon as possible. Preferably with my own manual involvement. Or oral. Or… various other options. I was flexible. Versatile , you might say.

I'd spent three weeks in May trying to get the gorgeous man to finally notice me. And I'd tried everything . Mowing shirtless despite the temps only rising to the upper sixties. Leaning over to tie my shoelaces several times an hour as if I'd never learned how to employ a double knot. Wiping my face with the hem of my shirt while flexing my abs and making sure I was facing his office window.

Hell, I'd even "accidentally" turned the hose on myself one day when he'd been carrying in the groceries. He'd walked right past me without even blinking. I'd spent the entire rest of the afternoon cursing the resulting chafing from my shorts.

That's when I'd learned to douse myself at the end of my visit. The entire reason I visited Bennett last thing on Friday afternoons was in hopes he'd ask me to stay. Maybe have a beer or sit out by the pool. Or strip down and skinny-dip together while watching the sun go down behind Copper Lake.

Okay, to be honest, I hadn't thought of the skinny-dipping thing until I'd heard his niece had gone to Europe for the summer. And by then… well, by then, my fantasies had gotten a little out of control.

I'd first seen Bennett four years ago at the Hive, a local bar. He had wavy golden-brown hair and a matching beard and slight crinkles around eyes that were the exact gray-green color of Copper Lake before the morning mist blew off.

Those crinkles, man, they got me. They spoke of maturity but also of laughter, and kindness, and warmth. They drew me in like a moth to a flame, and I would one thousand percent have sidled up beside him at the bar, bought him a drink (nonalcoholic, since I was underage at the time), batted the dark eyelashes my mother said were my very best feature, and wooed the heck out of him right there, the same way my brother Con had wooed Micah, the shit-hot man who'd become his husband.

But…

At that time, Bennett was what the locals called "Copper-plated"—a guy who spent his summers in his vacation home on the lake, then disappeared back to "the real world" by Labor Day. Anyone who lived in Copper County or O'Leary knew better than to develop a crush on a Copperplate unless they were looking for something temporary, something purely physical. And I hadn't been. Not then. In fact, that particular summer, I hadn't wanted anything at all with anyone.

Because four years ago, my best friend, Rae—the person I'd grown up with, the person who'd clued me in to my own pansexuality back when I was a newborn infant of fifteen, the person who'd taken me seriously when the rest of O'Leary insisted on thinking of me as "Julian and Constantine's little brother" and "the baby of the Ross family"—had packed up and moved themselves to the Northwest. And I'd spent the first six months of their removal so heartbroken I'd mistaken it for lost love.

But then I'd gone to visit them in Seattle over the holidays and realized they were not, in fact, the love of my life. They were the same wonderful bestie I'd always known, and they'd found such incredible joy and belonging in their new neighborhood I couldn't have been happier for them.

I'd come home by way of an overnight layover in Manhattan and burned up my Grindr app, turning my layover into a debauched weekend during which I'd almost made up for the lost months of zero action.

And the following summer, I'd taken one look at Bennett Graham and decided to add him to my metaphorical bedpost notches. He was still a Copperplate, sure, but temporary and purely physical was precisely what I was looking for then . Win/win, you know?

Except… Bennett hadn't noticed me.

Like, at all.

I'd been twenty-one and newly legal. I'd hung out at the Hive again, drinking with my friend Sam and her girlfriend, Marni, shooting pool with my oldest brother Jules and his boyfriend, Daniel, who only ever had eyes for each other, dancing with Jana and Sawyer and anyone else who asked, being the best and brightest and bubbliest version of myself and… nothing. Zip.

Not a glance. Not a flicker.

Week after week.

I'd been so desperate to make contact with him I'd even re-downloaded Grindr, though in the past, I'd always sworn off using it within the boundaries of O'Leary and Copper County for fear of seeing things I didn't want to see—namely the profiles and, potentially, dick pics of my brothers, their partners, their friends, and God only knew what other O'Leary gays I didn't even know existed yet. It would be worth it, I told myself, if I could connect with Bennett Graham.

But he hadn't been on the app.

And that had been fine. Eff-Eye-En-Eee, fine. Because it was just… lust… anyway. No big.

I'd easily brushed it off. So what if he and those crinkly eyes of his had featured front and center in my nighttime fantasies for the following nine months? A man had to keep warm somehow in a New York winter.

And so what if, the following spring, I'd convinced my brother that Ross Landscaping should offer Bennett half off our standard rates for summer lawn maintenance? It had nothing to do with anything other than wanting my hometown—or, you know, the town next to my hometown, since the tiny town of Copper County technically wasn't part of O'Leary, but neighbors were neighbors, right?—to look their best for summer.

The homes around Copper Lake were the jewels of the area in summertime, and what better property to show off our services than the historic Observatory House?

And it was none of my business if the Observatory House happened to be currently owned by the hottest member of the third generation of Grahams.

Coincidence, really.

But that summer, two years ago, Bennett hadn't come. I'd heard a rumor he was here for a week in July, but I'd missed him, too busy helping out at the hardware store. Bennett had come for the Christmas holidays, but I'd been working for my mom at the Christmas tree lot, so I hadn't had a free moment to stalk… er… run into him.

Last summer, Bennett had moved here permanently to take over parenting duties for his sister, but for once, I'd been gone because Con and Micah had surprised me with admission into a summer illustration program down in Georgia at Savannah College of Art and Design.

My summer at SCAD had been a dream come true for someone who'd only ever doodled. It had given me the confidence to envision a future beyond just fantasizing about beautiful older men and planning to one day take over my mom's plant supply business.

But while I loved illustration, doodling jobs were thin on the ground around here, and I had no desire to move. My family was here, and they needed me. My friends were here, too. I loved every inch of O'Leary and Copper County with all my heart.

So I hadn't taken advantage of the SCAD programs to continue my art education or seek an internship. I'd come back home and made the best of things, building a social media following for my art while landscaping and working shifts at the hardware store to pay my bills, and trying to decide what the future should look like.

On the plus side, coming back to New York meant I was back in the same environs as Bennett Graham, and since he was no longer a Copperplate, we could potentially have something more than just temporary and physical—I mean, not that I wanted that, just that the possibility existed.

On the negative side, though, the man was even more oblivious to my existence than before.

But my time trolling bars while low-key hoping to see Bennett's eyes looking back at me did pay off in one small way. I overheard a conversation that got me thinking differently.

And by differently, I meant exhibitionistically.

I'd been sitting at the bar at the O'Leary Bar and Grill back in April, stuffing my face at the Wing Off—because even five or six years after opening the place, the owners were still extremely competitive about their respective wing recipes, which resulted in them conducting bi-annual competitions, to the delight of every wing-loving human in the area—when I'd noticed Parker packing up a giant to-go container of wings.

Jamie, Parker's childhood crush-turned-mortal-enemy-turned-business-partner-and-boyfriend, had leaned back against the counter at Parker's side and watched him for a moment. " Tsk . Poor Parks. Finally packing up your wings and forfeiting the competition? Took you a few years to understand who's the real champion around here, but don't worry, baby. I won't gloat." He slung a bar towel over his shoulder and shot Parker a grin. "Much."

"Theo?" Parker had wrinkled his nose and glanced around, perplexed. "Do you… hear something? It's the strangest, most annoying sound. Like the honking of a clown car combined with the buzzing of a fly. I do believe it's the mating call of the Sore Loser."

Since I had my mouth full of wings, all I could manage was a snicker.

Jamie, though, had wrapped one big hand around Parker's front and laughed so hard his face went red behind his freckles—nearly the same shade of red as his hair. And Parker, because he was over the moon in love with Jamie, no matter how much they teased each other—or heck, maybe because they teased each other and liked it —took one look at Jamie's joyful face and started laughing, too.

"No, Jameson , I'm packing up an order for Bennett Graham. He couldn't make it in for wings since it's a school night," Parker had informed Jamie. "Poor guy."

My ears had perked right up at the mention of Bennett's name, and I'd started really paying attention—I mean, not enough to stop eating, obviously, because… wings … but enough to slow down a little.

Jamie's eyebrows had flown up in surprise, but I'd noticed he hadn't let go of Parker… which wasn't unusual since the two were always touching each other. "Bennett Graham from out in Copper County? He cares about school nights?"

"Since becoming his niece's guardian, he does. We were running next to each other at the gym the other day, and he gave me the rundown. He gets up at 5:00 a.m., packs her lunch, makes her a wholesome breakfast, drives her to school, then goes home and runs his big Manhattan architecture firm from out on the shores of Copper Lake. In the afternoon, he heads back to the school to pick her up, or see her sporting events, or go to her plays…" He'd shaken his head. "Bennett actually asked me if there was more he should be doing to help her acclimate to life here, if you can believe it."

"Whoa." Jamie had looked about as impressed as I'd felt. "Wish I'd had a parent like that."

"I know, baby." Parker had rubbed Jamie's arm. "I mean, I thought it was pretty awesome when Bennett moved here so Vega could make friends and experience small-town life, but he's going the extra mile." He'd gotten out a big paper bag and placed the takeout container inside. "So I thought… why should Vega be the only one getting the small-town experience? I think Bennett needs to see some O'Leary/Copper County support in action. Maybe he needs a friend, too, you know?" He'd hefted the bag. "So I'm making a wing delivery before we head home."

Jamie had frowned ferociously at the bag, then at Parker. Then he'd cupped Parker's face in both hands and kissed him thoroughly. "I think you're fucking amazing, Parker Hoffstraeder," he'd declared. Then he'd stepped back and grabbed a new takeout container. "But if you wanna be his friend, Parks, for fuck's sake, give him the good wings. Namely, mine ."

I'd thought about that conversation for a long time afterward.

When I'd sat down at the bar, my obsession with Bennett Graham had already been stratospherically high, simply because he was exceptionally hot and seemed really nice. Because I wanted him, and I hadn't found a way to have him.

But after that night, my obsession became cosmically high—as in, high enough to hang out in the constellations outside our solar system. Because Bennett was a genuinely thoughtful, selfless person. Because, like him, I knew what it was like to prioritize other people's needs—especially my family's—over my own. Because Bennett deserved good things to happen to him, and I thought… well, I thought he and I together could be a really good thing.

You know, just as soon as he noticed me and saw that I was interested.

And since nothing else had worked in the past, I'd turned to hose-and-pool shenanigans.

But clearly, those still hadn't worked since he'd jerked himself off straight back to New York.

"Motherfucker," I snapped at the stupid note before beginning to crumple it up. Before I could shove it in my pocket, I noticed something printed on the back of the paper.

I smoothed it back open and studied it.

… forever speaks truth with the persistent exceptions of Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays, whereas her King is known for being honest unless it happens to be Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday, in which case he insists on prevaricating.

"Yesterday I told you an untruth," the King proclaimed.

"As did I," the Queen declared in surprise.

The jester clapped and hopped from side to side. "Tra-la! What day is it? What day is it in the kingdom?"

"Thursday," I murmured, grinning stupidly at the sight of the logic puzzle.

I'd noticed a book of logic puzzles by one of the pool loungers a couple of weeks before. I remembered seeing a similar item in Bennett's shopping cart at Lyon's Imperial Market once, too. It must have been a hobby of his.

I carefully stowed the note in my pocket until all of my yard work was done, and then I went to my truck to retrieve a zip-top bag of markers and sat down at the patio table to create a drawing.

There were many ways to try and get Bennett past last week's embarrassing moment, but maybe the best way to do it was to embarrass myself, too.