Leaning Into Series: The Complete Box Set

by Hayes, Lane

  “Humble much?”

  “Why be humble? But I should correct myself.…I was the best. Past tense. This is the first time I’ve picked up a racket in months.”

  “You could have fooled me. You’re pretty good.”

  “Gee, thanks,” he replied with a wink. “It’s just muscle memory though. I played for too long. My body can’t forget it. It’s weird sometimes. I went from traveling all over the country on the pro circ—”

  “You were a pro?”

  “Well, yeah. I played on the pro circuit, but I was ranked behind—”

  “You were ranked? Holy crap. Do you know Federer?”

  “I wish. I was a few layers beneath anyone you’ve heard of, but I figured it was a matter of time. I was more than willing to work hard to make my dream come true.”

  “And…what was your dream?”

  “To qualify for one of the majors. Sadly, I got sidetracked or shall we say, I took my eye off the ball,” he quipped with a huff.

  “What do you mean? Did your game get bad?”

  “No. I got bad. I wanted to be a normal twenty-year-old. I wanted to hang out with my friends, go snowboarding, get drunk, stoned, and act like an idiot. I wanted a break from my three practices a day, seven days a week schedule. Nothing permanent. Just a reprieve. Instead of a weekend off, I got the year off. And now we’re going on year five.”

  I waited for him to elaborate but he seemed lost in thought, lulled by the rhythmic bounce of the ball. After a few minutes, I prodded. “What happened?”

  “I told you. I broke my legs skiing and that was all she wrote. My three-day getaway turned into three months and kept multiplying. And now…well, be careful what you wish for, Ry. You just might get it.” He snorted derisively.

  “I’m sorry,” I said feebly.

  “Thanks. I’m all better now,” he replied a little too brightly. “Match time. You ready for this?”

  Danny hit the ball to me and followed it up with a spontaneous dance move. I snickered at his carefree goofy display before chucking it back at him playfully. “Who’s serving first?”

  He walked to the service line then pointed the end of his racket at his chest. “Moi. Hey, Ry?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m about to turn into a Tasmanian Devil out here, so before that happens…thank you for humoring me.”

  “Well, you did show up with coffee.”

  “It was still cool of you. I think you really do like me,” he teased.

  “Whatever, Danny boy. Hit the fucking ball already. Don’t get touchy-feely. It makes me queasy. It’s just a game.”

  “No. It’s a match, Ry. And you’re about to get lit up.” He gave me a pirate’s grin that went straight to my dick then pulled his right arm high above his head, tossed the ball in the air, and smacked the hell out of it.

  Thus began my unceremonious tennis beatdown.

  I’d never been great at team sports. I wasn’t terrible, but I’d never stood out. I had a tendency to downplay any natural ability I had. A shrink once suggested my reluctance to be in the spotlight had something to do with a fear of failure. There may have been some truth to that, but the other truth was that I hated to lose. Yet, there I was. Getting my ass handed to me, set after set.

  We played for another hour. I won a point here and there, but I had a suspicion those were freebies to keep me from banging my racket on the court or just walking away and calling it quits. I should have been frustrated by the physical proof I was nowhere near his league, but I actually had fun.

  Danny balanced cocky athleticism with a self-deprecating charm that made me laugh. I’d hit a lob shot and he’d glance up at the heavens as though waiting for the ball to return to earth long after it bounced off the back wall. His goofy antics made it impossible to stay mad about an occasional wild swing. He wasn’t silly all the time. Just often enough to remind me not to take it too seriously. Frankly, I’d expected the opposite. I figured he’d want to prove he was still an amazing tennis player. For his own sake, if not mine. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case.

  I sat on the metal bench and swiped my wrist across my forehead before uncapping my water bottle and taking a healthy swig. I sensed Danny’s stare in my periphery, but I was too tired and thirsty to ask what he was looking at. I set my half-empty bottle aside and stretched my legs in front of me before glancing up just as Danny peeled his polo shirt over his head, revealing his smooth, toned torso and the most incredible six-pack I’d ever seen on a man up close. The hint of ink south of his belly button that looked something like the wings of a phoenix completed the picture. The man was seriously drool-worthy.

  “Whatcha looking at, Ry?” he teased, shoving his sweaty shirt into his tennis bag and pulling out a fresh white tee.

  “Nothing,” I lied. “Aren’t you going to put a shirt on? It’s getting cool.” I pointed to the clouds gathering overhead lamely, unsurprised when he chuckled.

  “I’ll take my chance with the sixty-eight-degree cold spell,” he said with a wolfish grin.

  And that was when I realized the little fucker was baiting me. He’d caught me staring at him and he liked it. In fact, he might have orchestrated that striptease at the optimal moment to ensure I saw the whole show. Hmm. This was an interesting twist. What kind of idiot purposely taunted a gay man with his sexy bod without expecting some sort of retaliation?

  “You’re trying to turn me on, aren’t you?” I asked in a raspier than usual tone.

  Danny’s faux-shocked expression cracked me up. “Well…”

  “Maybe that wasn’t your intention but I’m warning you, I’m going through a tragic dry spell in the sex department. Even you look kinda hot to me.”

  I expected him to throw his clean T-shirt over his head in seconds flat. Instead, his wide-eyed look of surprise slowly morphed into a radiant grin that clearly said, “Bring it on.”

  “Even me, eh?”

  My gaze traveled shamelessly down his chest, taking in the deep contours of his muscles and his pebbled nipples before roaming south to study the edges of that sexy tattoo. I took my time making my way back to his eyes and braced myself for his reaction, knowing it could be anything from amusement to disgust.

  The flash of desire, however, caught me off guard. I licked my lips and narrowed my gaze. I had to be seeing things.

  And just like that, it was gone. Or at least covered up.

  I cocked my head curiously and nodded. “Yeah, even you. But…you aren’t my type.”

  He twisted to face me on the bench then removed his sunglasses and squinted at me. “Who is your type?”

  Okay, I didn’t expect that either. I took another gulp of water before replying.

  “Generally, I like older guys who are comfortable in their skin and not going through a life crisis. And if Santa Claus was really interested in granting my wish this year, I’d also request a man who isn’t either questioning their sexuality or suffering bouts of self-hatred. Oh, and one more thing.” I held up a finger like a school teacher before adding, “He has to be single. If I hear one more guy try to justify the other man in his life with an ‘it’s complicated,’ I may give up for good.”

  “Give up? Like no sex for the rest of your life?” he asked incredulously.

  “Hell, no! I love sex! But relationships might not be my thing.”

  “Don’t get gloomy on me, Haskell. There’s still two months till Christmas. You never know, maybe Santa will leave one of his retired elves under your tree this year. He’ll be wearing a rainbow shirt and carrying a red rose. You know, like in The Bachelor.”

  I barked a quick laugh as I turned to rest my knee on the bench. “Sounds like the kind of creeper I’d get. No, thanks. I’ll stick with my eau de cologne and yearly sweater from Mom. No surprises. Are you going to put that shirt on?”

  “So you are getting hot and bothered? Nice,” he said, slipping his T-shirt over his head.

  “Just bothered,” I retorted, glancing down at my watch. The numbe
rs barely registered. I’d spent my entire morning with Danny and against my better judgment, enjoyed every second of it. “We should get going.”

  “Oh. Right.” He stood abruptly then he gave me a look I couldn’t read without instructions before sliding his sunglasses back on his nose. “Hey. What are you doing tonight?”

  I furrowed my brow and fumbled with the cap on my water bottle. I was beyond flustered. What was he up to? “I’m—I don’t know. Why?”

  Danny shrugged. “I’m not doing anything and if you aren’t either, we could hang out or something. This is kind of a sleepy town unless you’re here on a wine blitz getaway. And I don’t know about you, but I could use a break from grape juice.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t have a ready excuse on the tip of my tongue. Then again, why would I? This was unexpected. We’d just played tennis and now he wanted to “hang out or something.” Weird. However, his lighthearted tone made his invitation seem like the most natural thing in the world.

  “Um, well…” Think, Ryan. Think. “I’m helping Geordie with some inventory later. I don’t know how long it’ll take. Another time though.”

  “If you need help, call me. I’ll give you my cell number.”

  “That’s not necessary. We can handle counting a few bottles and if we need you, I can get your number from Geordie.”

  “Nah, we’re together now. Hand me your phone.” He crooked his fingers impatiently.

  “You’re awfully bossy,” I commented with a scowl, slapping my iPhone into his open palm.

  Danny grinned as he typed his contact info into my phone. “No, it’s called asking for what you want.”

  “And what exactly do you want? Overtime or something?” I snarked.

  “Or something.” When he handed my cell back and winked, I almost fell on my gay ass in shock.

  Whoa. He was flirting with me. Wasn’t he? It sure sounded like it to me. What the hell was going on here? Was Danny bi or was he messing with me?

  And then it dawned on me. This had to be Geordie’s doing. He was out to win that fifty bucks. I bet he’d decided to go directly to Danny to make it happen sooner rather than later. That sneaky little—I was obviously going to need to chat with my well-meaning but oblivious boss before he set me up with a straight man.

  Chapter 3

  I couldn’t stop thinking about Danny. And by thinking, I meant obsessing about him. Every wicked thought in my head featured the handsome man with a sexy smile who was suspiciously…ubiquitous.

  Maybe I was paranoid. After all, we were coworkers. We rubbed elbows for eight hours or more either behind the bar or in some customer service capacity in the tasting room. It was a lot of togetherness. Which roughly translated to excess opportunities for me to act like a lovesick teenager.

  I was so weird around Danny. I laughed too loud. I stared a little too long. And whenever we stood near each other, I found some way to touch him. A brush of his shoulder against mine sent my heartbeat into the stratosphere so fast I was constantly breathless. The timbre of his voice did things to my pulse, but it was nothing compared to the dizzy feeling that came over me when he smiled at me. To my mortification, I caught myself doing silly things, like telling lame jokes, in the hopes he’d flash his signature radiant grin my way.

  Weekdays in early November were usually quiet in the mornings but became busier in the afternoons. And Thursday afternoons were almost as crazy as the weekends. According to Geordie, this was when wine aficionados from the city started driving in for their weekend getaways. That must have been it because by four o’clock, every barstool was taken. Danny manned the far end of the bar near the window, and I worked the opposite end. When another group walked in, Lauren joined us to help out. But instead of putting her in between us, I took the middle section. And it was…perfect. We were perfect.

  We worked effortlessly together. It was as though we were dancing. One stepped forward, the other stepped back. We leaned in on cue and away when necessary. We each handed over clean wineglasses or the open bottle of reserve the other needed without saying a word. An older gentleman from Idaho commented on our orchestrated maneuvering.

  “You two are like a well-oiled machine,” he’d said before cackling. “Or a married couple.”

  My customer guffawed good-naturedly when Danny threw his arm around my waist and kissed my cheek. “How’d you guess?”

  Naturally, my blush was fast and furious. I thought I could handle the flirtation and hopefully diffuse the heat in my face without giving myself away. So instead of pushing him back, I drew him close, intending to return the peck. But when he twisted to look at me, I missed his cheek and kissed the corner of his lips.

  We stared at each other in surprise for a moment, locked in our own internal dialogue. Mine went something like, “That was a million times better than I ever dreamed possible and I want to do it again,” while his was probably closer to, “Oh shit, Ryan has a crush on me.”

  Thankfully, the man from Idaho assumed we were playing around. I pasted a grin on my mug and pretended to laugh along with him and Danny when what I really wanted to do was slink under the bar until everyone was gone. I managed to muddle through until I’d poured my final glass of the afternoon and cleaned up, but as soon as Lauren locked the door, I wanted out.

  I skirted the bar just as Wes walked through the arched doorway from his office. “Hey, Ry. Have you gone over the estimates I forwarded from that tour company?”

  “No. I haven’t checked my emails, but I’ll do it when I get home,” I replied as I reached for my jacket.

  “Okay, thanks. Whoa—” He grabbed my sleeve as I moved toward the door. “What’s your hurry? I was going to ask if you wanted to come to the house tonight for dinner. Nick invited Josh and Finn and—”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Why not? They’re bringing the baby. You love Anna Banana.”

  “I do.” I sighed. “But the idea of spending the night with you—the guy I used to sleep with—and Finn—the guy I tried to sleep with—and your significant others doesn’t sound appealing.”

  “That’s ridiculous. You’re talking about ancient history. What’s wrong, Ry? Are you okay?” Wes asked, cocking his head with concern.

  “Yeah. I’m okay,” I replied, running my hand over my stubbled jaw. Sort of. He was right, of course. My past liaison with him and a few innocent dates with Finn before he and Josh became a couple were hardly noteworthy. But I craved solitude tonight. I’d been spending far too much time with Danny, which had to be why I was acting so…weird. I didn’t trust myself to be normal around anyone at the moment.

  I opened my mouth to attempt an explanation but was interrupted by a boisterous rendition of “Razzle Dazzle” from Chicago. Wes lifted his brow as Geordie sailed into the room with a flourish. Complete with jazz hands. I pulled my jacket on while he finished his number and exchanged a look with Danny who was watching me from across the room. Geordie adjusted his bangles and gave me a self-satisfied smirk before inclining his head toward Danny.

  “That man is delicious. Have you lost the bet yet?”

  “What bet?” Wes furrowed his brow and gave Geordie a sharp look he pointedly ignored.

  “He’s playing Cupid again, Wes. Stop him.”

  “Geordie…” Wes sighed.

  “Oh hush. I haven’t done a thing…yet,” he added mischievously. “But I’m willing to up the stakes if you are.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked, narrowing my gaze.

  “I’ve been doing some thinking and…I’m willing to go out.”

  “Excellent. So I win.” I grinned to diffuse his suddenly somber expression.

  “Not so fast. I’ll go out in a group…say, with Danny”—he tossed a sideways glance across the room before continuing—“and if he makes a romantic overture, I win.”

  I rolled my eyes. “It’s not gonna happen.”

  “So pessimistic. If not, you’ll win. Deal?”

  “Deal,” I
agreed.

  Geordie presented his hand for me to shake in true diva fashion.

  “Excellent. But I won’t be seen in a skanky cruiser bar or some place where drag queens rule. I’m too easily distracted by their gorgeous clothes and contouring skills.” When I huffed impatiently, he lowered his eyes and continued in a raspy tone. “Nonetheless…it’s time.”

  Wes laid his hand on his shoulder. “Are you sure?”

  Geordie’s breath hitched but he didn’t break down or falter in any way. He held his head high and met Wes’s gaze then mine. “No, but I’ll try.”

  Wes nodded. “That’s good. But don’t rush or—”

  “I’m hardly rushing. It’s been two and half years. Mike wouldn’t want this, Wes. The clock didn’t stop for the rest of us. You moved on. You have Nick now and if I’m going to convince Ryan that his knight in shining armor is out there too…quite possibly on the other side of the room,” he dropped his voice to a conspiratorial pitch before adding, “I need to convince myself it’s okay to be happy again. Without guilt.”

  Anyone who knew Geordie knew this was a big fucking deal. His gut-wrenching loss had left him utterly broken. I’d seen his pain firsthand. Grief and desolation had made getting out of bed impossible some days. But he’d come a long way and if he was willing to get out there again, I’d be there for him. I squeezed his arm in a gesture of friendship and support then headed toward the door, pausing for a moment with my hand on the knob.

  “Tell me when and where. I’ll be ready.”

  “Good. Saturday night.”

  * * *

  I wasn’t ready. At all. And by Saturday night, I was a nervous wreck. I’d hoped having a rare day off, away from Danny, would help me regain my equilibrium. We spent too much time together, and I was in danger of reading something in his friendly nature that wasn’t real. I couldn’t pretend I didn’t like him anymore. The trick was reminding myself that not being annoyed by someone wasn’t an invitation to start lusting after him. No matter what Geordie said.