Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Less than thirty minutes after getting home, I was already climbing back into my vehicle to leave. I headed straight for the flower stand. She was just starting to pack up for the day when I rushed over. “Can I still get something?”
“Yes, sir. You caught me just in time. You’re Sammy Joe’s husband’s friend from New York, right?”
My gaze snapped to hers. Holy shit. That was going to take some getting used to. Everyone knew everything about the people in Ryland. “Yes, ma’am.” Damn. Look at me. I almost sounded like I fit in.
“It was wrong how folks did that man when the rumors started. I mean, I can’t pretend it wasn’t a little scary thinkin’ about a murderer in Ryland, but—”
“He didn’t do it,” I interrupted. “They caught the guy who did.” When Emerson’s past had come out, people here had tried to run him out of town. They’d automatically jumped to the conclusion he’d done it.
“I know, I’m just sayin’. At first it made folks wonder, but they still did him wrong. I’m real happy for Sammy Joe. He deserves some good comin’ his way.”
Oh, well, I guess she wasn’t that bad. You never knew if people were going to be bigoted or not when it came to being queer. “He’s a good man.” I pointed to a bundle of bright wildflowers. Brian could use a little color. “I’ll get those.”
She handed them over, and I paid, leaving a hefty tip before making a beeline for my SUV. I had a feeling she was the kind who could get to talking and never let you escape, and while I might be the same, I was planning on chatting Brian’s ear off and not having someone else do it to me.
I typed his address in and was surprised to realize he only lived about a mile from where I was staying, which was convenient.
His house was back from the road—a small, white, brick older home that looked like it couldn’t be more than 1500 square feet. There was a long porch by the front door, with two rocking chairs on it. The lawn was neatly mowed, with large shade trees in both the front and the back.
It was nice, homey, and fit what I knew of Brian. Back here, he could pretend he was the only person in the world if he wanted to. I didn’t know what it was about the thought that made me remember his panic attack at the grocery store. I couldn’t help wondering if anyone other than me knew he had them. While being his friend was something I wanted more and more, I knew I couldn’t push too hard. The last thing I wanted was to hurt him or make him uncomfortable. Seeing him like that had been…fuck, I’d wanted to help. I wasn’t sure there was anything I could have done to soothe him. That was a thing with me—wanting to make people feel better—but it seemed to be in overdrive when it came to Brian.
Before I looked like a weirdo for sitting in his driveway all evening, I grabbed the flowers and went to the door.
Less than a minute later Brian answered—sweet Jesus, why did he have his T-shirt off? It was clear he’d just gotten out of the shower too. His black hair was wet, a shaggy mop that hung over his forehead. His stubble was shorter than mine, more like a thicker five-o’clock shadow. He wore threadbare jeans low on his hips. Brian’s chest was furry with dark hair, sprinkled lightly with gray. He was…damn, he was sexy, which wasn’t what I was supposed to be thinking, but it was hard not to when he stood there looking the way he did.
“That was quick,” Brian said.
“Yeah, it’s crazy, but I literally live like a mile from you. We’re neighbors.”
Brian frowned before his gaze went down to my hands. “What are those?”
“In New York, we call them flowers. Do they go by a different name here?” I teased.
“That’s not what I meant. Why’d you bring ’em?”
“To be nice? You already shot down my wine idea, so it was all I could think of.” Well, shit. Now I felt silly and…bashful? Not something I was familiar with experiencing.
“Aw, hell. Sorry. Just haven’t ever had someone bring me flowers before.”
Oh, now I was glad I had. “I’m one of a kind.” I winked.
His forehead bunched up as if he was confused. “I didn’t know that was a thing men did for other men.”
“Flowers don’t belong to women. Men are allowed to enjoy pretty things. Society has done a number on us when it comes to gender expectations. I think you need lots and lots of flowers.”
“I didn’t mean no harm,” Brian said, ignoring my last statement. “I wasn’t sayin’ because you’re…”
“Gay?” I finished for him.