Found at the Bookstore

by Christi Snow

  Ryder had stilled, frozen, and now he looked around the mostly barren house.

  Stig couldn’t read Ryder’s expression, and that was terrifying. He shouldn’t have pushed so hard, so fast.

  But then Ryder flashed him a wide, blinding smile and relief surged.

  “I’d love that,” Ryder said softly, almost shyly. “I can see spending the rest of my life here with you, because I’ve fallen in love with you, too. I never saw it coming. I never saw you coming, but what do they say? It’s when you least expect love that it happens. You happened, Stig, and I couldn’t be happier about it.” He leaned up and kissed Stig, pointing at the mistletoe Stig had hung above the door.

  “Merry Christmas, babe.” Ryder pulled away and licked his lips and grinned wide. “This is just the first of many, so how about we light a fire in the fireplace and christen our new home.”

  ***

  Several hours later, Stig awoke and sat straight up in the bed. Alone. He searched the shadows of the room lit by the low flame in the fireplace and the lights from the Christmas tree, but didn’t see Ryder.

  Panic seized him. Had tonight been too much? Ryder hadn’t gone wandering in the middle of the night since he’d gotten his glasses. Stig climbed off the bed and yanked his pants off the floor, sliding them up over his legs and hips. Then he took off at a jog, searching the house.

  He found Ryder in Stig’s bedroom, a sharpie pen in hand and a partially drawn mural covering most of one wall. He was completely nude with the exception of those sexy glasses.

  “Ry,” he called softly, his heart plummeting to his feet. Was this a signal of Ryder’s health declining again even though he still wore the glasses?

  But Ryder turned toward him with bright, clear eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. You said the house was a blank canvas for me to decorate, and I woke up inspired.”

  “Really?” Stig tilted his head trying to determine what exactly Ryder was drawing on the wall. But right now it was simply a mish-mash of lines. “I didn’t think you’d be able to do this anymore.”

  Since Ryder didn’t remember ever creating his paintings, the doctor thought that was a part of him Ryder wouldn’t be able to retain as he healed. They hadn’t discussed it, but Ryder had avoided his studio since coming back from St. Louis. Stig hadn’t been able to determine exactly why yet. He hadn’t been able to get a good feel for how Ryder felt about it.

  “Well, this isn’t exactly like before.” Ryder stepped back and examined the mural critically before turning back to Stig. “I don’t know how much you knew about the way I was before the football injury, but I had a full scholarship to MIT’s engineering program. Dr. Sturgarten was right about what part of my brain was damaged. I think it was that part where my critical, mathematical, engineering brainwork came from. Ever since the accident, the only way I could find that joy was through my photography of bridges and buildings that embraced that lost part. Tonight, I was dreaming so vividly, I could see the joists and spans in my dream.”

  Now, Stig could see it. Ryder’s mural was the beginnings of some sort of bridge or structure.

  “I woke up and had to embrace it.” He waved his hand at the wall. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Of course, I don’t mind. I can’t wait to see how it looks when you’re done. Do you plan to paint it or just keep working in marker?”

  “I don’t know.” Ryder twisted the marker in his hand. “This is all new. Is it okay if I just play?”

  “It’s better than okay.” He stepped up to Ryder and wrapped his arms around his naked waist. “And in case it needs to be said, if you do this often in the middle of the night, I’m all for embracing the naked artist side of you.”

  Ryder laughed low. “That’s because you’re a perv.”

  “True fact.” Stig kissed his neck. “Would it bug you if I watched you work for a little bit?”

  “Naw, that’s fine. I probably won’t work much longer, especially now that you’re awake.” He glanced down at Stig’s crotch. His arousal was fairly prominent since he hadn’t fully fastened his pants in his haste to find Ryder.

  Ryder waggled his eyebrows at Stig. “In more ways than one. Maybe I should just finish this later.” Ryder sat the pen on the floor and nuzzled Stig’s neck. “Let’s go back to bed.”

  Epilogue

  Ryder – Six months later

  Dammit. Ryder had promised Stig he wouldn’t be late tonight, but there’d been a wreck between Mac’s house and the gallery, and it had taken them three times longer to get here than it should have.

  “Relax,” Tommy cajoled. “You’re the artist. They aren’t going to do too much without you.”

  “May I remind you that they did your whole opening without you being there?” As he said it, Ryder winced.

  Tommy had missed his gallery opening because of Ryder’s attempted suicide. It probably wasn’t the best time to bring that up. But dammit, he had plans for tonight, and he’d promised Stig that he wouldn’t be late when he’d headed over to Tommy and Mac’s earlier this afternoon.

  It was one thing to screw up his life, but the gallery was Stig’s life. It looked bad for Stig when Ryder wasn’t there yet...for his own gallery showing.

  Because of the opening tonight, the parking around the gallery was packed. “Come on,” he urged Tommy as they ran down the sidewalk. “If you don’t get a move on, I’m going to leave you here.”

  “Ryder, chill. You can’t run in there all out of breath and disheveled. You’re fashionably late.”

  “Fuck, what time is it?” He’d been so discombobulated, he’d forgotten his phone in Tommy’s truck.

  Tommy glanced down at his watch with a wince. “Nine ten.”

  “Fucking-A, Tom. Stig is going to kill me.” The opening party had started at eight.

  “If he wants to stay in your bed, I think he’ll forgive you.”

  Ryder snorted. “Yeah, I don’t think it will be me kicking him out.” Shit, fuck, and damn. He had plans for tonight. How did he ever expect to get Stig to say “yes” when he was angry at him?

  Finally, they reached the front door of the gallery. Tommy grabbed Ryder’s arm and pulled him to a stop before he could enter. “Slow down and take a deep breath. If you walk in there looking confident and like everything is going according to plan, they won’t even question it.”

  As he composed himself, Ryder noticed the window display over Tommy’s shoulder. “Oh my god,” he whispered. “What did he do?”

  In the window was a huge sign that said, Transitions: One artist, three parts... It had examples of his photography, a large mural from his current style, and one of his paintings that he couldn’t create anymore.

  As far as Ryder knew, this showing was just supposed to feature the paintings. He’d lost the ability to create them when he’d begun using the prismatic glasses.

  Surprisingly, that had really hurt him at first. Stig was so into the art, he’d worried that without that tie, Stig would lose interest in him. Of course, that hadn’t happened, but he still felt the grief from the loss of the ability...even if he’d never been conscious when he’d used it. In a way, offering them up as a gallery showing like this allowed him to grieve properly and give closure to that part of him.

  Besides the few pieces that Stig wanted to keep as his own for his collection, they’d decided that the art contained more bad memories than good. Ryder was past that hollow time in his life. He could look at the art and see the value as an art collector, but for him, that art meant more pain than happy, more loneliness than anything. It was a stark reminder of just how different his life had been.

  He didn’t want that dragging him down anymore, so he’d agreed to show with Stig and put the art up for sale at the Minton Gallery with all the funds from the sales—if there were any—going to help fund more of Dr. Sturgarten’s research and maybe even fund treatments for other TBI patients.

  But he’d never agreed to showcase his photography and mural art alon
gside those paintings.

  He looked to Tommy, who just smiled knowingly at him. “Let’s go in and see.”

  His stomach had already been a knot of nerves for several reasons...but now, he worried he was about to puke. He took a deep breath and pushed through the front door of the gallery with Tommy close on his heels.

  The foyer was terrifyingly empty and quiet. “Oh fuck,” he whispered in horror. No one had come to his showing. He sent a panicked, stricken look at Tommy who just pushed him on through.

  “Keep going” Tommy hissed. “There’s nothing to be done for it now.”

  As they passed through the curtained entrance into the main gallery, it took a moment for his brain to catch up with what he saw in front of him.

  His art lined the walls...from top to bottom. At every other gallery showing he’d been to here, the art had been displayed in a single line, one piece in an area. For this display, Stig had chosen to showcase his art in a mish-mash from floor to ceiling. It literally covered every speck of empty wall space in the gallery.

  In the very middle of the gallery stood a painted white gazebo strung up with what looked to be millions of twinkle lights. He recognized the faces of the people inside of it, but he only had eyes for Stig, who stood outside it beaming at Ryder with a hopeful gaze. He wore a tux and Ryder’s stomach took flight. Yes, he looked damn fine, but Stig had told him that a suit was fine for tonight. What the hell was his boyfriend up to?

  “What’s going on?” he asked Stig...his boyfriend, lover, and soul mate. Ryder had his suspicions, especially since he had a tiny jewelry box in his pocket that he’d planned to use tonight. However, this had not been part of his plan.

  “Can’t you guess?” Stig asked with a flirty—and maybe a little nervous—smile.

  Suddenly, clues over the last few days started to come together. He frowned at Stig. “Dammit.”

  Stig’s smile dropped and his eyes widened in a mix of surprise and pain.

  “You’re totally stealing my thunder,” Ryder complained. “I had plans tonight, Stig. You got to have the grand gesture at Christmas. This one was supposed to be mine.”

  Stig’s mouth curled down in a frown on one side and a furrow developed between his eyebrows. “Um, sorry?” He looked behind Ryder to Tommy for guidance.

  That one look had Ryder turning on his brother. “You knew about this and didn’t warn me?”

  Tommy bit his lip, trying to hold in his laughter, but some escaped anyway. “Wow, excuse me for thinking this was romantic.”

  “Dammit it is, but,” he whispered as he turned back to Stig, pulling the ring box out of his pocket, “you just beat me to it.”

  Stig’s face softened with understanding and his eyes filled with tears. “Babe, I haven’t beat you to anything. If you’ll recall, there’s been no question asked yet.”

  Ryder looked back over to the gazebo where their small circle of friends watched the two of them avidly. Mac and Emily both held up their phones like they were recording all this. Ryder shook his head and then refocused on Stig. Fuck, he loved this wonderful, thoughtful man so much.

  Ryder strode over to Stig, concerned. He brushed at the liquid. “Hey, what’s this?”

  “I was just realizing that this would be a great story for our grandkids.”

  Ryder’s thick throat grew tight. “Fuck, Stig, you’re killing me here. I love you, you know that, right?”

  Stig nodded and swallowed heavily.

  Ryder dropped to one knee. Even knowing that this was absolutely the right move and that Stig would probably say yes since he had what looked to be a wedding planned here, there was a gravity to this step that stunned Ryder. His eyes filled with tears. This was real. Their love was real.

  Stig gasped in a surprised breath, despite what they’d just been talking about.

  Ryder took a deep breath. “I want those grandkids. I want these stories. I want you...in my life...forever. Stig Minton, I love you with all my heart. Will you marry me?”

  “I love you, too.” Stig nodded. “But before I say yes, I have one condition...” He waved a hand behind him. “I kind of have a thing planned here tonight. I don’t know if you know this about me, but I’m not the world’s most patient guy.”

  Ryder laughed. That was an understatement.

  “Would you be okay if we do it...get married...here? Now?”

  Now, Ryder’s eyes filled with tears. Damn, Stig always was the more romantic. “Stig, when it comes to you and me, your impatience has always made things even better. I’d love to marry you tonight. Let’s get hitched.”

  And then they did...with all their friends standing by, supporting and loving them...and it was so much more than either one had ever dared to hope.

  THE END

  Author’s Note:

  The research and treatment using prismatic glasses is nothing short of amazing. I loved reading about it in the The Ghost in My Brain by Clark Elliott, PhD. It was his book that Stig originally read in the story. I highly recommend this book. It’s an autobiography but reads like a fictional novel, and I found it both highly entertaining and extremely educational about how TBIs affect the brain’s ability. I modified Dr. Elliott’s response to music before and after his TBI treatment and adapted it to art and photography in Ryder’s life. (For Dr. Elliott, he could visually see music in colors when using the prismatic glasses...extremely fascinating.)

  With that being said, though, I am not a medical expert. Any error within this story is my own, although I will say...every brain is different and every TBI patient has their own response to their brain’s injury.

  I hope that the wait for Ryder and Stig’s story was worth it. I kind of fell in love with them and their journey was much more complex than I ever expected.

  And speaking of the unexpected...curious about what happened to Emily in Vegas? I think she’s going to be getting her own Found novella...because when it comes to her and Brady...I think we deserve to know.

  THANK YOU...

  Thank you for reading Found at the Bookstore. I hope you enjoyed it. If you haven’t read the first book in this series, catch up with Mac & Tommy’s story in Found at the Library.

  Would you like to receive a FREE book and find out when I release my next book? You can sign up for my newsletter e-mail list at www.christi-snow.com.

  You can also follow me on Twitter at @ChristiSnow, or like my author Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/christisnowauthor

  Reviews help other readers find new books. I appreciate all reviews, whether positive or negative. Thank you for taking the time to give feedback.

  If you liked this book, I have several other books in different genres available and coming soon.

  When the Mission Ends series (contemporary romantic suspense) Operation: Endgame (Book #1)

  Operation: Endeavor (Book #2)

  Before the Mission Begins (Novella #2.5)

  Operation: Endurance (Book #3)

  When Love Intrudes (Book #4)

  When Love Comes Back (Book #5)...coming soon

  Men of Snowcroft series (contemporary m/m romantic suspense) Snowcroft Lost (Book #1)

  Snowcroft Safehouse (Book #2)

  Intertwined Hearts (Book #3)...m/m/f...coming soon

  Snowcroft Restoration (Book #4)...coming soon

  Foxtrot Team Novels (contemporary romantic suspense) (all proceeds go to charity) The Shadow of Mudflap

  The Martin Ranch series (contemporary romantic suspense) Right By Your Side (Book #1)

  Cruel Serendipity (Book #1.5)...m/m...coming soon

  Male Model Chronicles (contemporary romance) Justin (Book #1)

  Lance (Book #2

  Joshua (Book #3)

  Found Series (m/m contemporary romance) Found At the Library (Book #1)

  Found At the Bookstore (Book #2)

  Through the Veil series (paranormal dystopian) Through the Veil (Book #1)

  Allied In Flight (Book #2)

  Rejecting Destiny (Book #3)
/>   Stand-Alone (m/m contemporary romance) Believe in the Wish

  Paranormal Texas (m/m paranormal novella) Smolder (novella #1)...coming soon

  Shiver (novella #2)...coming soon

  Chapter One from Found at the Library...

  Chapter One

  When life throws you conflict, sometimes you have to create your own plot twist.

  Do Epic Shit.

  -Observations from Tommy

  Early October

  There was nothing better than this smell.

  Robert McIntyre, or Mac as all his friends knew him, picked his way around the hundreds of tables piled high with books. He inhaled and picked up a tome. The aroma of paper and ink permeated his senses like nothing else in this world. Being in the midst of all this literary brilliance was honestly his favorite time of the year. Writing was an art he appreciated with every single segment of his soul.

  He volunteered at the Denver Friends of the Library public sale every year. It was at this event that anyone, wealthy or poor, had the ability to enrich their world through the power of books. Hardbacks that normally sold for twenty-five to thirty dollars were sold here for only three. Paperbacks sold for only fifty cents. The frugal reader could come in and buy their reading material for a year for just a few dollars.

  For these three days, he provided pack-mule service for purveyors who purchased more than they could carry. The elderly volunteers wanted him for his muscle, not his own literary genius. His reward was three days surrounded by more books than he could ever read in his lifetime and the people who loved them as much as him. At every turn, there was a wonderful new bookish discovery, waiting to be found.

  As he reached for another beautiful leather-bound tome that caught his eye, his walkie-talkie buzzed on his waistband. “Mac, we need you at register four.”