13. Briar

Briar wasn'tsure if the last splash in his bottle of Valentino cologne would combat the scent of animals and antiseptic that clung to him after a long day, but it would have to suffice.He didn"t have time for a shower.If he ran his date off with clinic stink, he wasn't going to lose much sleep.

He already regretted setting up a blind date in the first place.What had he been thinking? He hadn't.He never did; he only reacted.

Derek's rejection was humiliating.It left Briar feeling unwanted and embarrassed, and he never made good decisions when he was in that state.Worse—he was lonely. He hadn't realized how isolated he"d become over the past year until Derek revealed it with a single touch.Nate was a great friend, but he didn't need Briar third wheeling on his domestic bliss, and there was no one else.

Briar missed being touched; he missed cuddling and laughing at jokes no one else understood.He missed being in love—or at least being distracted by the possibility of falling in love before everything went tits up.With his penchant for choosing the wrong men, that was usually how it worked.

Derek was as wrong as they got.Nate had tried to warn him, but Briar never listened.He'd had to learn the hard way—with a verbal slap in the face.Not only was Derek all wrong for him, rough and aggressive where Briar was soft and easy-going, but he was so deep in the closet he didn't even know there was a closet.He was walking around thinking the whole world was as dark and confined as his little hidey-hole.He actually thought he could force himself to be straight.Everything about Derek was a giant red flag.Getting involved with someone like that would be the biggest mistake Briar ever made.

But that didn't stop the longing.

Briar had relived that moment in the salvage yard a hundred—no, a thousand—times.He felt the sizzling pressure of Derek's lips even in his sleep, and he woke up bathed in sweat and sticky sheets.

Briar wasn't na?ve or inexperienced, but he hadn't thought chemistry like that even existed.With one brutal kiss, Derek made every man he'd ever been with seem like a fumbling boy.Sex had always been a fun, flirty, exciting form of recreation.But sex with Derek would be something else entirely.Something life changing. Briar wasn't even sure he'd survive it, so it was for the best that Derek had pushed him away.It had probably saved them both.But that didn't stop the growing ache beneath his skin.

He needed a distraction, and all it took was one bottle of pinot noir and a slightly hyperbolic dating profile for him to snare one: Peter Petrovich, age twenty-nine.He wasn't local, of course, but that was even better because Briar wouldn't need to face him in the light of day.

Briar stuffed his work clothes in his backpack and gave himself a quick once-over in the mirror above the break room sink.

His clothes were decidedly not suited for Sweetwater:vegan leather pants that accentuated his ass and a silky shirt with a neckline so loose that it slipped off his shoulder every time he breathed. He"d completed the ensemble with a pair of thick Chelsea boots to add a necessary height boost.

Derek probably would've gagged if he could see him.

"Well, well," Nate let out a teasing wolf-whistle as he entered the break room."Got a hot date?"

"Maybe."

Nate's eyebrows spiked, and his smirk vanished."With who?" he demanded.

Briar sighed and smoothed a wayward strand into his slicked-back hair."No one you know. Obviously. I signed up for an online dating service.Figured it was time to broaden my horizons."

"Broaden to where?" Nate asked incredulously."The next town over? It"s even smaller than Sweetwater."

"Boise," Briar replied. The city was a good three-hour drive to the east, across the canyon that split the state line."The guy's a pharmaceutical rep who travels for work.He's passing through anyway, so we're going to grab a bite and see where it leads."

Nate looked intensely doubtful."Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Why not?" Briar asked, trying to sound casual.He couldn"t bring himself to meet Nate"s eyes, so he turned back to the mirror and began fussing with his hair again."It's just a hook-up, and I promise not to leave a public place with him without texting you all the deets."

"You don't do hook-ups," Nate pointed out sharply."You always fall head over heels the second a guy shows interest."

Briar forced out a laugh, but it sounded thin and brittle.An image of Derek, sweaty and rugged and raw, flashed through his mind.

"Maybe it's time I grew up," he retorted flippantly.

Nate cracked his neck, looking like there was a lot more he wanted to say, but in the end, he bit his tongue.He dropped a hand on Briar's shoulder and squeezed once, grounding him."Just be careful, okay? I don't want to see you get hurt again."

"Me neither," Briar agreed, saying it with such fervent gusto that Nate was forced to laugh.

Briar smiled, but as he turned back to his reflection and adjusted his collar, he noticed that it didn't reach his eyes.

* * *

Sweetwater wasn't exactly knownfor its bustling nightlife or culinary scene, but if there was one thing they knew how to do right, it was steak.Briar chose Rawson's because it was the only nearby restaurant that managed to straddle the line between greasy-spoon and fine dining.

The steakhouse operated out of a historic building nestled between a quilt shop and a touristy home décor boutique.A huge covered porch was made of weathered timber and filled with patio tables, all glowing in the soft light from old-fashioned lanterns.Perfect for a romantic evening—if only Briar could summon up some enthusiasm.Right now, he'd rather be in bed with Netflix and some instant noodles.

He must have blinked and missed the eastern Oregon spring; the weather had segued from winter storms right into summer heat.The night was balmy, carrying the savory scent of grilled char, and Briar was already sweating as he approached the entrance.

He tugged nervously at his collar, feeling out of place.The tables were occupied by plenty of familiar faces, but nobody he could greet by name, and they all seemed to be staring at him.It was probably the outfit—or maybe the young, lanky stranger who greeted him as he approached.

"Peter?" Briar asked with growing trepidation.

His date had chosen a table beside the entrance where they would be exposed to the view of all passers-by.He stood out even more than Briar in a tailored dress shirt and vintage bow tie.His beard was tapered and so neatly groomed it looked like a topiary bush, and he was nervously tapping a wooden vape pen against the side of his thigh.It looked nothing like the masculine scruff he'd been sporting in his profile picture.

"Briar?"Peter asked, sounding surprised.His handshake was too firm, as if he were trying to assert dominance."You look nothing like your photo."

Briar's smile felt like it was frozen in place."Likewise," he murmured, and then was startled as

Peter pulled out his chair for him."Uh, thanks."

"No problem," Peter said, waving dismissively."Since I'm the one who made the first move, I feel like it's my duty to play the gentleman this evening."

"But not every other evening?" Briar teased.

"Well, I usually date women, so of course I'm a gentleman with them."

Briar felt his blood run cold."You…didn't your profile say you were gay?"

"I am, at the moment." Peter handed him a menu, his face bright with a rehearsed smile."It's the modern age, after all.I feel like I should give everyone a chance for equality's sake."

Briar blinked, nonplussed. If he"d wanted a man who wasn"t sure how he felt about other men, he"d have stuck with Derek.But he was saved from formulating a response when the server arrived to take their drink order.Peter ordered a craft brew, but Briar was feeling so unsettled that he stuck to a diet coke.

Before she could leave Peter grabbed the server by the wrist and said, "Excuse me, sweetheart.Do you have any vegan options?"

The server, a young woman with a messy bun of bleached hair, stared at him for an uncomfortably long time.When Peter only returned her gaze expectantly, she replied flatly, "It"s a steakhouse."

"Yes, yes. I just hoped you'd have at least one option for those who choose not to partake.My tip always reflects how well a restaurant accommodates its patrons.But that's fine. I'll settle for something grass-fed." Peter waved her away with a dismissive gesture.

Briar nearly shriveled right there in his chair.He tried to shoot the server an apologetic look, but she'd already hustled away, putting space between them in record time.

When they were alone again, he chided, "You shouldn"t grab people that way."

"Grab who like what?" Peter asked blankly, and then changed the subject before Briar could reply."I'm glad to see you dressed up for me.Even though we're just men, we should make an effort with each other, don't you agree?Although I did think gay men were supposed to be more fashionable."

Briar stared hard at his menu to avoid looking at him and didn't answer.

"I mean, your ensemble is fine," Peter continued."I appreciate you trying to impress me.You just stand out a bit in this rustic setting."

"Istand out?" Briar asked incredulously.

"You mentioned on the app that you were a transplant.If I were you, I'd try to adopt more of an urban-country aesthetic.Cowboy chic, if you know what I mean."

Briar had just taken a sip of his soda, and he choked at the words cowboy chic.A brief flash of Derek's damp t-shirt and blue jeans streaked through his head.That was as chic as it got in a place like this, and it was perfect.

The conversation flowed easily while they waited for their orders, but it flowed in only one direction.Briar wasn't required to do much more than nod and make an occasional sympathetic noise in his throat.

He caught himself glancing at the door every so often, half-hoping to catch a glimpse of a familiar dark-haired giant.But no, he chided himself, he was trying something new.Even if this date was an unmitigated disaster, at least he wasn't sitting at home, pining over someone he could never have.

He glanced out over the darkened town.The stars were now fully visible, twinkling in a thick cluster over the mountaintops.It was a beautiful night. If only it wasn"t wasted on the wrong man.

A sudden change of pitch in Peter's constant drone pulled him back to reality.

"What was that?" he asked, frowning.

"A sustainable art installation," Peter repeated impatiently."This town is clearly lacking in the art scene."

"Mrs. Thompson paints watercolors of her cats and sells them at the Sunday market," Briar said wryly."Does that count?"

"Like I said, you desperately need a sustainable art installation."

"Sweetwater needs more important things first," Briar said, feeling mentally exhausted."Like a community health center and a pizza place that delivers."

"That's small-town thinking," Peter said with a condescending smile."You're already becoming one of them.Better be careful. Places like this rough you up.Pretty soon you'll lose your twunk charm."

"My what?" Briar asked, so taken aback that he stopped casting longing glances toward the entrance and gave the man his full attention.

"Don't be coy," Peter said with an artificial laugh."You're definitely a twunk."

"You mean a twink?" Briar asked, his eyes narrowed to slits.

"Oh, don't be offended. I like it." Peter placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward to whisper confidentially, "I'll be the top, of course.Your profile photo screamed bottom.I'll admit that I was concerned I wouldn't find you attractive, but I made sure to take a Viagra in the parking lot.You don't need to worry on that front."

So that was the reason he'd been shifting uncomfortably in his seat every few minutes.

"But it won't be a problem," Peter continued blithely, unaware of Briar's horror."You're very pretty for a man."

"What makes you think I'd bottom for you?" Briar asked, completely exasperated.He set his drink down carefully.It suddenly seemed very important for him to line it up just-so on his cocktail napkin."What makes you think we're even having sex?"

"That much is a given. After all—"

"Here's your rib-eye," the server barked, appearing out of nowhere and slapping a plate down in front of Peter.The loud clatter drew glances from nearby patrons.She set Briar"s meal down with considerably more care, but Briar studiously avoided meeting her eyes.

"Thank you," Peter said graciously, and then he ruined it by catching her apron before she could escape."Before you go, I have a question for you.Who's top and who's bottom?"

"What?" She pointedly removed his fingers from her apron.

Peter leaned back in his chair and gestured magnanimously between the two of them, puffing out his chest to appear broader.His expression was encouraging when he asked, "Which of us do you think is the top, and which do you think is the bottom?"

Briar's cheeks were so hot it felt like he'd been blasted by a furnace. He wished the floor would open up and swallow him, but the universe hadn't been in a wish-granting mood so far and it wasn't about to start now.

"That's none of my business," the server said emphatically.She sounded revolted, but Briar couldn't blame her.He felt the same way.

"It's definitely me," Peter assured them both with a forced laugh."Size matters, and I'm above-average in that respect."

The server's face was red. She looked like she was about to cry.Incensed on her behalf, Briar had just opened his mouth to rip into the jerk when a tall, imposing figure stepped behind the woman and dropped a hand on her shoulder.

It was Derek, hair tousled, clad in a worn pair of jeans and a soft-looking shirt that hugged his broad chest.The overhead lanterns glinted off the stubble along his jawline, the polar opposite of Peter's exquisitely trimmed beard.It gave his already foreboding features a devilish appearance that might once have terrified Briar but now seemed ruggedly charming.

His gaze zeroed in on Briar's flustered face, and the air seemed to change.Calmly, he turned to the server and said, "Could you run on back and tell Frank thanks for getting my order ready so quick, Cherilyn?"

"You aren't eating here?" Briar blurted, so relieved at the interruption that he temporarily forgot how angry he was at him.

But then Derek met his eyes and he remembered again.His stomach flipped. The faint scent of motor oil and pine clung to him, so quintessentially Derek that it made Briar's stomach flutter.

"Not eating at all." Derek said. The electricity between them was turning Briar's limbs to jelly, but Derek didn't seem to notice. He shook the white paper bag in his hand."Frank's garlic-marinated tartare is the best catfish bait around."

Peter frowned in evident distaste."How…rustic."

Derek's eyes slid briefly to the man across from Briar, as if he were barely worth noticing.It seemed to strike a chord in Peter, who sat up straight in his chair, trying to assert a dominance he definitely didn't feel.

"And who might you be?" Peter asked, his voice dripping with disdain.

"Nobody." Derek shrugged. "Just a friend passing through."

"Are you a local?" He said it in the same tone one might ask: ‘are you a leper?'

Derek's brows lifted. Briar might have called the gleam in his eyes playful, but only in the way a cat plays with a mouse. He leaned one hip against the backrest of Briar's chair and crossed his arms, takeout bag dangling casually from his fingers."Been here all my life," he said easily.

"That explains the whole rugged woodsman look you have going on."

"Thanks." One corner of Derek's mouth lifted in the barest of smirks."It's not a look; it's a lifestyle."

His posture was one of unbothered ease, as if he didn't even notice the unspoken challenge wafting off Peter like an obnoxious cologne.Somehow, that made it easier for Briar to bear.The stress that had been tightening his neck and shoulders all evening began to dissipate as he basked in Derek's reassuring presence.Whatever grievances he'd had seemed trivial now.In that moment, surrounded by the curious whispers of the other diners, he craved Derek's comforting stability more than the air he was breathing.

Even someone as dense as Peter Petrovich apparently knew when he was being mocked.He leaned back in his chair, trying to mask his irritation with a studied smile.

"Charming," he murmured, ice cubes clinking as he swirled his water glass like it was a fine brandy.

On the third swirl, he fumbled the glass.It crashed to the table, splintering into pieces and sending a mini-tidal wave toward Briar. Briar yelped, scrambling to save hismeal.Derek grabbed a pile of napkins and sopped up the water before it reached Briar'slap.

Peter wasn't as fortunate. He leaped to his feet, wiping at his wet slacks and inadvertently drawing attention to the massive tent behind hiszipper.

"Oh, uh—" Briar coughed, scratching his cheek and trying to discreetly gesture toward the man'scrotch."Looks like that pill already kickedin.You mightwanna…"

He didn't even get a chance to finish hissentence.Peter was already racing toward the restroom, clutching a damp napkin to the front of histrousers.

It seemed like the whole restaurant watched himgo.