Besides, he didn’t, so it didn’t matter.
One wet dream about Connor didn’t make him gay, and no one ever had to know about that. It was just the first time he’d been kissed in a while.
He’d get over it.
Chapter Thirteen
Connor beamed as he opened the door to Max, his heart fluttering in his chest while he stepped back to let the other man inside.
His stupid little crush was definitely not going away anytime soon, and he was just starting to make peace with that. He could enjoy Max’s company, he could enjoy having a crush on him, even if it was never going anywhere.
At least, that was what he was telling himself. He was used to not getting what he wanted, so why should this be any different?
“Come in,” he greeted Max belatedly, when he was already halfway through the door. “Take your coat off, make yourself at home.”
“Thanks,” Max murmured, shy as ever once he was outside his comfort zone.
Connor was hoping to work on that. He wanted to be a part of Max’s comfort zone.
“Something smells amazing,” Max added a moment later, hanging his coat on a free hook.
“I haven’t had an excuse to roast my own chicken in a while,” Connor said. “So I figured I’d take advantage of you being here. I also have potatoes and homemade garlic bread.”
Comfort foods, Connor had decided. Simple, familiar things that would, hopefully, leave Max full, happy, and relaxed.
“Do you drink?” Connor asked as he headed over to the kitchen, hearing Max’s footsteps behind him.
“Uh… I’ve never really been able to afford to,” Max responded.
A lump formed in Connor’s throat at the honesty. Sadness, for Max, that he couldn’t do normal young people things, but also joy that he was willing to just tell Connor that, instead of trying to talk around it.
They were getting somewhere. He could tell Max was really starting to see him as a friend.
“Okay, let me rephrase: do you want a glass of wine? I can pour lightly, and you don’t have to drink it if you hate it.”
Max wet his lips. “Maybe?”
“Maybe’s good enough. Try a sip, and I’ll finish yours if you don’t,” Connor said.
“Okay,” Max agreed.
Connor’s stomach clenched with excitement. Max trusted him.
It was like having a wild animal approach and take food out of his hand. A genuinely magical moment.
“Take a seat, make yourself comfortable. I figured we could eat while we talk. That’s the casual part.”
Max chuckled at that. “I was wondering what part of a full roast dinner you considered casual,” he said.
He didn’t seem upset about it, though. Maybe even a little excited?
That might have been wishful thinking, but if the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, then Connor was planning on making a serious play for Max’s affection tonight.
Platonic affection.
He knew Max wasn’t interested, and that was fine.
“My view of what is and isn’t casual has been warped by the number of weddings my clients have insisted were casual, but then demanded formal ten-course meals at,” Connor said, smiling wryly. “Not that I personally do the catering, but… that’s a helluva menu plan that makes anything less feel a little inadequate.”
“Yesterday, the only thing I ate was a free donut and mac ‘n’ cheese out of a box,” Max said. “So I’m working from a completely different baseline.”
Connor made a soft, sympathetic noise, opening the oven to pull the chicken out. The juices ran clear when he stuck a knife into the thigh, but he shoved an instant-read thermometer in anyway, wanting to be sure he’d cooked it through.
It couldn’t hurt to check, and he really didn’t want to cut into a half-cooked chicken in front of someone he was trying to impress.
The thermometer beeped, showing a perfect internal temperature, and Connor smiled. The garlic bread and potatoes looked perfect as well.
He’d pulled this off, even though it’d been a long time since he’d cooked for anyone other than himself.
“You know, if… I mean, if you wanted, I really don’t mind cooking for two more often.”
“Dude, you’ve cooked for ten,” Max said, staring at the dishes Connor was pulling out of the oven.
“My point is, if you’re hungry… I’m just across the street from the bookstore. You could come to dinner whenever you wanted. If you wanted to. No pressure.”
“Thank you,” Max said. “I might just take you up on that.”
“It’s an entirely serious offer,” Connor said. “Anytime.”
He wanted to roll his eyes at himself for sounding so desperate, but… he was desperate. For company, for affection—even if it was strictly platonic—and for a friend.
As much as he wanted to be Max’s friend, he wanted Max to be his friend, too.
Connor was just now coming to terms with how lonely he’d been. He’d barely noticed until he’d had the smallest taste of what it was like to have someone in his life again, after so long working himself to death, and then hiding away from the world.
“Feel free to use your fingers,” he said, pouring two glasses of wine and passing one to Max. He’d set out plates and silverware, but he didn’t want Max to feel pressured to be polite.
“I can eat like a grown up,” Max responded.
Connor shrugged. “You can, but I have no intention,” he said, tearing off a chunk of garlic bread and putting it on his plate to cool. The chicken and potatoes would take a while longer to be cool enough to eat, but he was hungry now.
Besides, if Max saw him eating, he’d be less likely to hesitate.
Max took a chunk of garlic bread as well, hissing at the heat, but not even pausing before he tore a smaller piece off and shoved it in his mouth. Connor watched him close his eyes as he chewed, happy noises rumbling deep in his chest.
Connor squirmed in his chair, thrilled that he was making Max happy.
“So I’m thinking blues and creams with silver accents,” Connor said, sliding his laptop over to himself and opening it up. “This is supposed to be micro-budget, so I’m keeping it simple. Fake flowers, dollar store vases, lots of handmade details… I think it’ll be cute, but I want you to sign off on stuff.”
“I trust you,” Max said around a mouthful of garlic bread, loading potatoes onto his plate and eyeing the chicken off eagerly.
Connor pushed the cutting board it was on toward him, hoping to encourage him to just eat.
“I know, but I could use the reassurance that what I’m doing isn’t hideous,” Connor said.
“You’re asking the wrong guy,” Max responded. “But show me what you’ve got?”
“Well, first of all, I want to do an all-in-one wedding and reception. I want people to get comfortable when they arrive, say our vows, and then pick at breads, cold cuts, and cheeses. Maybe some fresh fruit and nuts, too. We’ll see how the budget goes.”
“What is the budget?” Max asked.
“We have to keep it under a thousand dollars,” Connor said. “But it still needs to be a nice wedding, and picnics are nice.”
“Picnics are nice,” Max agreed. “I haven’t been on one of those since… wow. It has to have been ten years, almost? Zoe was only a kid. Dad was still alive.”
Connor made a soft, sympathetic sound, but Max didn’t seem to react. He’d been wondering about Max’s dad, and that answered at least some of his questions. It seemed like the kind of thing he shouldn’t pry into just now.
Instead, Connor pulled up an image of a single flower in a small vase. “I wanna keep the centerpieces simple, but I also… want more glitter than this. It’s a gay wedding. I feel like it needs glitter.”
Max chuckled, finally reaching out to tear a leg off the chicken. Connor smiled to himself, watching Max pick the perfectly-crisped skin off it and shove it in his mouth.
He looked like he was enjoying hims
elf.
“I was thinking jeans and a button-down shirt for both of us. To, y’know, sell the casual thing. It’s the only way I can think of right now to make a wedding this cheap this good. Also… a wedding cake is beyond my skill level, so unless you’re secretly a talented baker…”
“I can more or less put together a batch of muffins,” Max responded, picking apart his chicken leg eagerly. “But that’s my limit.”
“Yeah, so… I was thinking we could order a small cake to cut and then a few dozen cupcakes with the same theme? I talked to Marcus, the baker, and he said that’d be cheaper. Also that he’d give me a discount for not making him make anything with multiple tiers.”
“Marcus is a good guy,” Max said. “I mean… I don’t know him super well, but he’s been cool to me every time I’ve talked to him. He even gave me a few shifts at the bakery before I got the job in the bookstore.”
“People look out for each other around here, huh?” Connor asked. He’d noticed that everyone in Hope Springs tended to know everyone else, at least in passing.
It was nice. He’d never really understood what a sense of community felt like until he’d moved here. Even if he still felt a little like an outsider.
People had been quick to learn his name.
He’d lived in his last apartment almost five years, and he hadn’t known the name of anyone else in the building. His last coffee shop had never once gotten his name right.
Hope Springs was very different from Chicago. Not just in the sense that it was smaller.
Connor was pretty sure he could comb the planet and not find another place quite the same.
He’d come here because he could afford the rent while he licked his wounds, but the longer he stayed, the more he believed that maybe, he could be happy here one day.
“We try to, yeah,” Max said once he’d swallowed his current mouthful. “I guess that’s why you fit right in.”
“You’re helping me out,” Connor said. “I couldn’t do this without you.”
“And I couldn’t do it without you. And like… if you need help, I’m a hundred percent here to do whatever you need. But otherwise… I trust you. I think you’re gonna do a great job, and I don’t think you should doubt yourself.”
Connor snorted. Not doubting himself was easier said than done, but he appreciated the sentiment.
“Seriously,” Max said, turning to look at him with those pretty blue eyes that Connor couldn’t resist. “You’re good at this. I can see it in everything you show me and everything you suggest.”
This time, Connor sighed, his heart fluttering in his chest. Max was being so damned nice to him.
He wanted to kiss him right now more than he’d ever wanted to kiss anyone in his life.
So few people expressed that kind of faith in him until after their wedding had gone off without a hitch.
Max believed in him enough to hang all his hopes and dreams on Connor being able to pull this off.
He was such a sweetheart.
Connor had never met anyone like him before.
It really was a shame that he wasn’t interested in men. Being his friend was wonderful, but Connor would really have liked to be able to take him to bed and show him how much he appreciated the quiet faith Max had in him. How much it meant, especially after his last disaster.
“What I haven’t figured out is a venue,” Connor said. “I don’t know this town all that well.”
“Leave the venue to me,” Max responded between mouthfuls of food. “I’ve got an idea.”
Connor hummed, happy to let Max take over on that front if he already knew what he was doing.
“My mom found out, by the way,” Max said. “I meant to tell you, but I forgot.”
“What did she say?”
Max laughed. “She said it was okay that I was gay. That she’d always secretly known.”
Connor raised an eyebrow.
“I know, right?” Max said. “I had to explain to her that we were faking. She’s cool with it now that she knows what we’re doing.”
Connor paused, filing that information away to obsess over later. Max’s mom had probably just been trying to be understanding, but…
She was the second person who’d implied that maybe Max wasn’t as straight as he thought.
It was probably a coincidence. And the last thing Connor needed to do was to torture himself with the thought that maybe Max wasn’t completely outside the realm of possibility, but…
It was nice to dream, and he was so lonely.
“This is okay,” Max said, holding his glass of wine up after taking a sip. “Thank you. For… all this. I know it was a ploy to get me to come over, but it’s nice.”
Connor swallowed.
He couldn’t kiss Max. No matter how much he wanted to. It’d ruin everything they were working for if he made a move.
But he really, really wanted to.
“You’re welcome,” he said instead, pushing aside the impulse to scoot just a little closer to Max.
Max needed a friend right now. Not a sad gay boy drooling over him.
Connor needed a friend, too. Way more than he needed a doomed fling that’d ruin his chances of getting his career back off the ground.
At least, that was what he was telling himself.
The wedding was more important than his hopeless crush.
Chapter Fourteen
Max groaned as he straightened up, wiping sweat from his brow. Riley hadn’t been kidding when he said this was hard work.
He glanced over at the fence the saplings had been lined up against, breathing a sigh of relief when he noticed there were only a handful more to go. They must have put in twenty or thirty by now.
Max hadn’t thought to count when they started.
“We’re getting there,” Riley said. “Glad I had you here to help.”
When Riley had first offered him the job, Max had assumed it was purely out of charity, but by then, he was desperate enough to take a little charity.
Now that they were almost done, he could see that it would have been nearly impossible for Riley to do it himself. Brent might’ve helped, otherwise, but it was probably better for their general marital harmony that Riley got help from someone else.
Max didn’t mind being bossed around a little. Not that Riley had been unreasonable at all.
“I really appreciate the extra work,” Max said sincerely. His muscles ached and he’d hate himself in the morning, but he never felt like he was accomplishing anything on weekends. This made him feel better.
“Well, any extra work I have is yours if you want it,” Riley said. “It’s time for me to start doing something with my life again. So I thought… why not apples?”
Max chuckled at that. He didn’t know Riley well, but he got the impression from other people that this was how he always was.
Riley had sought him out a while back, offered him a few small jobs here and there. Max had taken them eagerly, and they’d been building in scope and complexity ever since.
Riley was kind, and he paid fairly, so Max liked him. He seemed to have a million stories to tell, and Max never got tired of that, either.
“Why not apples,” Max agreed. “This is gonna be beautiful, when these trees really get started.”
“It is,” Riley said. “This is a beautiful place. I used to love coming here as a kid. Mostly for Brent, but partly because once you cross the back fence you’re in the wilderness. We had so many adventures when we were kids.”
Max couldn’t help but smile at the way Riley talked about Brent. He was clearly a man very much in love with his husband.
“You’re welcome here anytime, by the way,” Riley said. “If you need to… talk, or get away, or whatever. You don’t even have to talk, if you don’t wanna. There’s a spare room and everything.”
Max swallowed. “That’s, uh… that’s generous of you,” he said.
It gave him a little more confidence that Riley wouldn’t refuse the reque
st he was about to make.
“Seriously, anytime. We’d love to have you.”
Max cleared his throat. “Actually, I was gonna ask you a favor,” he said.
“Go for it,” Riley said, turning to look at him.
“I wanna borrow your barn,” he said. “Just for a day.”
Riley raised an eyebrow. “It’s… kind of a mess. Not even watertight. Needs painting. What for?”
“I’m getting married,” Max said.
Riley’s eyebrow inched up.
“It’s, uh… look, this is a secret, but it’s a fake… thing. Do you know Connor?”
“I know of Connor,” Riley said. “The new guy. Spends a lot of time in the bookstore. He’s from Chicago.”
“Huh.” Max frowned. Connor hadn’t actually said where he was from, not to Max, but that sounded about right.
He’d definitely seemed like he was a long way from home when he’d first arrived.
These days, he seemed a little more at home here. Less out of place. More like he was finding his feet.
Max was glad to see that. Connor deserved to be happy, too.
“Uh, anyway, we’re getting married, but not for real. It’s for a competition, for Zoe. He’s doing me a huge favor, but we need somewhere to hold the whole thing, and… I thought of your barn. If that’s okay?”
“Well, that explains the rumors,” Riley said.
“Rumors?” Max asked.
“Rumors that you were cozying up to him,” Riley said. “I thought it was kinda sweet. Although, I guess it still is kinda sweet, but in a totally different way.”
“I’m not gay,” Max said.
For the third time in a handful of days.
It was starting to feel like a theme.
“Really?” Riley asked, eyebrow raised again. “Wow, my gaydar is usually laser-accurate. I’ve been assuming you were bi this whole time.”
Max wet his lips, not entirely sure how to respond to that.
That was the lie he’d told the photographer from the magazine. It’d seemed closer to the truth than trying to claim he was gay.
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