“It’s my half to give you, and I never intended to keep it anyway. I want you to have it. I want you to walk away from this with all your problems solved. Besides, teaching is a sexy profession. I really like the idea of you as a teacher.”
“I don’t understand why you’d do that for me,” Max said.
“I have everything I need.” Connor shrugged. “You don’t. But I can give it to you. It’s… this is going to make me sound like an asshole, but it’s really not that much money to me. People paid me tens of thousands of dollars to get their weddings right before I screwed up. I won’t miss it, but it’d change your life.”
And I think I’m falling in love with you, Connor didn’t add.
He couldn’t afford to be in love with Max, not with everything between them so uncertain, but…
If he hadn’t already fallen for him, he was right on the edge of it. Max was an easy man to love.
“It doesn’t make you sound like an asshole,” Max said. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Worry about thanking me when we win.” Connor took a sip of his coffee, making a soft, happy noise as the smooth, rich taste rolled over his tongue.
Max was a great barista, but he’d be an even better teacher. If Connor could give him that, he fully intended to.
“And I’ll just take a thank you. Like I said, you’ve already helped me. I have clients lined up for when this is over.”
“I’m glad,” Max said. “Makes me feel better about all the effort you’re going to.”
“Hey, I like doing this.” Connor smiled at him.
It was nice to plan something that wasn’t about what other people wanted. To have a little free reign for once.
It was even nicer to do it with Max, who was a balm for Connor’s soul.
“Oh, uh, before I forget… I’m thinking I’ll just come up with the guest list and give it to you? Then you can add anyone you want. Since we didn’t, uh… do that last night?” Max scratched the back of his neck, looking unsure.
“Works for me,” Connor said. “I just want it with plenty of time to hand-write the invitations.”
Max’s eyes widened. “Whoa. Hand write?”
Connor shrugged. “It’s a nice detail that goes a long way. Wedding invitations should be personal. It’s an important day.”
“We mostly do it by word of mouth around here,” Max said. “But I get that this is different.”
Connor was also starting to fall in love with Hope Springs. Everything he learned about it charmed him right down to his soul.
“This is different,” Connor agreed. “I’m winning this competition.”
Max smiled at that. “I believe you,” he said.
The bell over the door interrupted Connor just as he was about to respond, another customer coming in and making a beeline for the coffee counter.
“I’ll take a seat,” Connor said. “Thank you for reassuring me that we’re okay.”
“We’re more than okay.” Max smiled at him, then turned his attention to the woman who’d just walked in.
Connor retreated to his favorite comfy armchair with his coffee, relieved that he and Max were fine. More than fine.
Possibly at the beginning of something exciting.
He could hardly wait to find out where this was going to go.
Chapter Eighteen
“You know, you really don’t need to paint this barn for us,” Max said, taking the paint can and screwdriver Riley was holding out to him. He set it on the ground to lever it open, pushing until the lid came off with a satisfying, metallic pop.
“We’re both painting it,” Riley said. “Besides, I had to do it sometime.”
Max smiled down at the barn-red paint, imagining the whole thing painted in it, the details picked out in white.
“This is gonna look, uh… quaint, in red and white.”
“Charming,” Riley corrected. “This is first and foremost a gift for Brent, anyway. We’re gonna have an actual roll in the hay.” He grinned.
“I don’t… need to know that. At all,” Max said, though he didn’t really mind. Riley had every right to enjoy his happily married life.
“You’ll live,” Riley said. “But then we’re gonna clean this up and put in solar fairy lights, ready for you and Connor to do your thing. And then I’m gonna convince Brent to let me hire it out on the weekends as a wedding venue.”
“You’ve got this all planned out, huh?”
“Yep,” Riley agreed, passing Max a paint roller. “See if you can reach the top of the wall with that roller.”
Max tugged on the handle to extend it to its full length, reaching up as high as he could. The roller just barely made it to the top. It was just as well the barn wasn’t huge, the walls maybe ten or twelve feet tall. Riley had already said he planned to leave the roof restoration to a professional.
“Perfect.” Riley clapped him on the back. “See, this is why I need you. I’m too short for manual labor.”
Max laughed at that. “They make ladders,” he said.
“Yeah, but you’re tall enough to reach, so we’re good. Let’s pour out some paint and get started.”
Max leaned the roller against the wall of the barn and bent down to pour paint out into the tray. “Hey, uh… what made you think I was gay?”
The thought had been bothering Max since Riley said it, and considering recent events… if Riley had noticed something about him that Max didn’t realize, he would have liked to know what it was.
Disappointingly, Riley shrugged. “Dunno. Guess I’m used to assuming everyone is. I mean, everyone you know is…”
That was true. Everyone who was looking after him right now was gay, or bi, or something.
“You said you were never wrong. That your, umm… that your gaydar was accurate.”
Riley laughed. “It’s not an exact science. You’re a sweet kid. You’ve just got this… not entirely straight air about you. But that doesn’t mean I’m right.”
“Okay, but what if… what if I like girls, right, but there was this one guy…”
Riley raised an eyebrow. “So what if you were bi?”
“Does it count if it’s only one guy?” Max asked. “Hypothetically, I mean.”
Riley gave him a look that told Max he knew this wasn’t remotely hypothetical.
“Hypothetically, sure. There’s no… minimum percentage, or whatever. Your feelings are real. I’ve been in love with Brent since we were teenagers, but… there were a lot of girls, and a lot of boys in-between. And I’m married to him now, and I’m happy, but… that doesn’t change anything, either.”
Max swallowed. He wasn’t sure that made things any clearer at all.
“What I’m saying is… you feel however you feel. Is this hypothetically about Connor?”
“Hypothetically, yeah,” Max said. His stomach clenched at admitting it out loud, but he trusted Riley.
Riley nodded. “Yeah, kinda saw that hypothetically coming.”
“The problem is that I don’t know how I feel. There’s… there’s something, right, but I don’t know if it’s real and I dunno if I’m jerking him around or if it’s okay to need time for this, and I don’t wanna hurt him. Not for anything.”
“It’s okay to need time,” Riley said. “Don’t ever let anyone make you doubt that. You take every minute you need, and not a second less, okay?”
“Okay,” Max agreed. That took a weight off his shoulders.
“Is he pressuring you?” Riley asked, his tone suddenly serious. “Because that isn’t okay.”
Max shook his head. “No, no he’s not… he’s been great, and I just… what if I’m faking this, too? What if I’m so caught up in the idea of marrying him that there’s just all these other feelings and maybe they’re not… real.”
Riley whistled lowly. “To borrow an outdated phrase, heavy, man.”
Max smiled wryly. That about covered it.
“You ever heard of Occam’s razor?” Riley asked.
>
Max blinked at him.
“I’ll take the look on your face as a no. Dude was a philosopher during the middle ages, and long story short, Occam’s razor is the principle that the simplest answer is usually the right one.”
“So…?” Max asked, not sure what Riley was getting at.
“It makes more sense that you’re actually feeling what you’re feeling than that you’re making it up,” Riley said. “Because people have real feelings all the time, and because worrying that you’re not really bi enough is a well-documented phenomenon.”
“What if I don’t know exactly what the feelings are?” Max asked.
Riley chuckled. “That’s life. Can’t help you there.”
“You’re smarter than you want people to believe,” Max said, feeling as though he’d unlocked one of the great mysteries of the universe.
Riley winked at him, but said nothing.
He wasn’t sure he’d actually learned anything from this conversation—except that Riley had a surprising working knowledge of medieval philosophy—but it helped to hear that Riley believed him.
And that what he was feeling was, probably, real.
He still needed time to think about it, but the reassurance meant a lot. Especially from someone like Riley, who seemed to more or less have his life together.
Riley had given him permission to want whatever he wanted.
Now all he had to do was figure out what that was.
“So when is this wedding?” Riley asked. “You never said.”
“Couple of weeks,” Max responded, dipping the roller in paint and getting to work. “You’re getting a hand-written invitation.”
“Ooh, fancy.” Riley grinned over at him. “Well, if you need anything in the meantime…”
“I think we’ll be okay,” Max said.
For the first time, he actually believed that. This had all started to seem impossible, like it was more work than two people alone could accomplish, but…
Well, now he was starting to realize they weren’t alone, for a start.
Max’s life was changing fast at the moment, and he didn’t have a whole lot to hang onto, but what he did have were the friends he’d made. Friends like Declan and Ash, like Riley—and by extension, Brent…
And like Connor. Who was probably his best friend in the world.
His really hot best friend.
Who he wanted to have sex with again.
He wasn’t exactly sure how to make that happen, but at least he’d gotten as far as admitting it to himself.
Maybe all he had to do next was admit it to Connor.
Chapter Nineteen
Connor hummed as he re-threaded his sewing needle, sitting back to relax as he worked on the personalized bunting he’d stupidly decided was a necessary detail.
The more details, the better chance they had to win, he kept telling himself. Max’s future happiness was riding on this, and he didn’t want to screw it up.
He wished now that he’d brought his sewing machine with him, but once his career had taken off, he’d stopped doing most of his own sewing anyway. He hadn’t really expected to need it again.
Hand sewing was fine. Soothing, even. It just would have been a lot faster to do this by machine.
At least this way he got to sit back and watch mindless TV while he worked, which was as close to meditating as he ever got. It wasn’t the worst way to spend a Tuesday afternoon.
He was even expecting Max later, with the guest list he’d promised.
Just as he was thinking about how nice it’d be to see Max, maybe even hang out for an hour or so, Connor heard a familiar voice on the TV.
He hadn’t been paying attention to what he was watching, but it turned out to be an afternoon talk show.
With Dominique Heller as the next guest.
Connor’s stomach bottomed out. He wanted to reach for the remote, but he couldn’t stop himself from staring as Dominique walked across the set, a floral sundress swinging around her legs.
He should have looked away. He knew that. But shock kept him glued to the TV.
He hadn’t actually watched TV in so long that he’d forgotten celebrities tended to show up on it from time to time. Especially rich, powerful women on shows that were aimed largely at other women.
The host introduced her as philanthropic socialite with a heart of gold.
Connor’s stomach turned. He doubted he was the only person she’d reduced to tears, but money was enough to buy a better reputation than you deserved, too.
He felt alone in not liking her. And there she was, smiling brightly with her perfect teeth and beautiful glowing presence, and Connor was…
Sewing bunting, by hand, because he’d run away from home so fast he couldn’t take the time to pack his sewing machine.
“So you got married recently,” the host said. “And I hear your wedding was almost a disaster.”
Dominique rolled her eyes. “Oh wow, yeah, you should have met the guy I hired to plan it. He came highly recommended, but… wow. I guess you read all about it, huh? What a nightmare.”
Connor hissed as he shoved his sewing needle deep into the pad of his thumb. He tossed the bunting aside, tears welling up in his eyes.
Just then, the doorbell rang.
“Dammit,” he said, louder than he meant to as he went to the door, sticking his thumb in his mouth.
It was a relief to find Max on the other side of it. Even if he was half an hour early.
“Are you okay?” Max asked, raising an eyebrow.
To his horror, Connor burst into tears.
Max pushed his way inside, closing the door behind him.
“I stabbed myself in the finger because I’m an incompetent moron,” Connor said, wiping at his eyes. He was mad at himself for crying, especially over something he should have moved on from, and especially in front of Max. “I can’t plan a wedding and I can’t even sew two pieces of felt together without screwing it up and you’re an idiot for putting your faith in me.”
Max shushed him. “Lemme see,” he said, holding his hand out for Connor’s.
Connor offered it to him automatically. He was more shocked than injured, and the wound had already stopped bleeding, but it was still visible.
Max made a soft, sympathetic noise, raising Connor’s hand to his mouth. He pressed his lips against the pad of Connor’s thumb, just the barest pressure, and then swiped his own thumb over it.
Connor swallowed. It was nice to be looked after.
He could already feel his heartbeat slowing down, the knot of tension in his chest easing off. Max was so nice to be around.
“All better?” Max asked.
“All better,” Connor said, his throat dry.
Before he could react, Max was pushing him up against the wall, pinning him in place with the weight of his body.
“I am an idiot, but not for believing in you,” Max said softly. “You’re not incompetent. You’re not a moron.”
Connor looked at him, searching his face and finding nothing but kindness and acceptance and true, genuine belief that Connor knew what he was doing.
“I screwed up,” Connor said, his voice cracking. He screwed up, and now he was going to screw up all over again, and Max would go on being stressed and miserable and it would be all his fault.
“We all screw up,” Max murmured, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind Connor’s ear. “It’s okay, as long as you learn from it.”
Connor wasn’t sure he’d learned anything useful.
Maybe the lesson was to stop working for people who were spoiled. Max had been nothing but grateful, in awe of everything Connor was doing.
He hadn’t felt this appreciated in a long time.
“Tell me if you need me to stop,” Max said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Connor parted his lips to ask stop what, but Max leaning in stopped the question as he was thinking it.
Max’s lips were soft against his, cautious and exploring a
t first, but more confident as the kiss went on. A spark of arousal lit up Connor’s stomach, heat flaring up low and deep inside him.
He really didn’t need Max to stop this. Not when his lips were so soft, and his body was so warm, and he smelled of coffee and cinnamon and cloves, and Connor wanted to be comforted so, so badly.
“Please don’t stop,” Connor asked, grabbing handfuls of Max’s coat to pull him closer.
Max smiled a soft, slow smile, leaning in again and brushing his lips over Connor’s, rubbing their noses together. His tongue darted out to taste Connor’s lips, making him gasp.
This was nice. This was so nice that Connor had already forgotten all about Dominique, and stabbing himself in the finger.
Connor gasped for breath as Max pulled back, his heart pounding. He wasn’t sure if this meant Max had figured out what he wanted, but he didn’t care right now. Not as long as Max was there, with him, close and warm and gorgeous as ever.
He jumped in surprise as Max’s hands moved to his belt, looking down as Max tugged it open.
“This okay?” Max asked, his voice thick with arousal, but unsure.
Connor put his hand on top of Max’s, squeezing gently. “Can we go to the bedroom?” he asked.
Maybe that was too much. Maybe he should have just taken whatever he could get.
“Umm.” Max stepped back a half-pace, taking a deep breath that made his shoulders rise and fall dramatically.
He looked at Connor, and then down the hall to where the bedroom was, and then back at Connor again.
“Yeah,” he said after an agonizing moment. “Yeah, we could… do that.”
His cheeks were flushed deep crimson, so he obviously didn’t hate the thought.
A grin spread across Connor’s face. He darted in to peck Max on the lips, then gave him a gentle shove away.
“Go get undressed,” he murmured. “I want you naked when I get there.”
Max swallowed visibly, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He nodded, then stumbled back a step, turning and heading for the bedroom.
Connor licked his lips as he watched him go. Max seemed ready for more, and Connor wanted whatever he was willing to give.
He headed to the bathroom, willing to push his luck a little. If lube and condoms scared Max off, he’d dial it back, but…
Something Blue Page 10