Chapter 1
Jaime
“Sam. No. You cannot spy on my date by sitting at a different table in the restaurant,” Jaime said, shuddering at the thought.
His brother’s answer crackled through the phone. “You shouldn’t be there alone. You barely know this guy, Jaime. He could be a creep. Who the fuck lives in Silver Rapids, anyway? It’s like the nowhere of nowhere. I don’t like it.”
Jaime rolled his eyes and shut the back hatch of his vehicle, the canvas he’d just loaded carefully covered and padded for the drive into Monroe. “Ilive outside of Silver Rapids, so if he’s a creep just for that reason then so am I. Pick something else to judge him for.”
“I would, if you would tell me anything more about him,” Sam sniffed.
Jaime sighed. Buckling into the driver's seat, he plugged his phone into the car speakers and waited until he was certain Sam could hear him again. “No. You have his name, the location of our date, and my promise that I will text you when I arrive at the restaurant and when I leave. That’s more than enough.”
Sam huffed. “Fine. But text me when you are done dropping off the painting, too. Just because they are rich, that doesn’t mean they don’t have drums of acid filled with people in their basement.”
Jaime smirked, tapping in the address of the house he was headed for. “Yes, mother hen.”
“Yeah, yeah, call your brother overprotective all you like when you’re the one driving all over the state meeting up with strangers,” Sam sniped.
Backing out of his driveway, Jaime shook his head and refrained from reminding him that while Sam was older by four years, Jaime was twenty-five and perfectly capable of looking after himself. “I love you, too. Talk soon.”
They hung up after Sam told him to be safe one more time, and then begrudgingly wished him a good time on his date.
Truthfully, Jaime was glad for the distraction of his brother’s overbearing worry and the task of dropping off one of his commissions in Monroe before he drove back out to Silver Rapids. Otherwise, he might crawl out of his own skin from jittery excitement.
He was going on a date. With Finn. The very attractive and funnyFinn.
At first, Jaime had wondered how he could be real, with his dating profile looking more like it belonged to anEddie Bauercatalog model than an actual person. Finn had shaggy, sandy blonde hair and rich brown eyes set off by a light golden tan. But Jaime was even more swept away when they’d started chatting, so caught up in his rumbling laugh, thick shoulders, and a smirk that made certain lower parts of him take interest.
What would it feel like to hold on to those shoulders, and kiss that smirk right off his face? Or ride his cock till they were both screaming?
He’d very much like to find out.
But most of all, Jaime couldn’t stop thinking about how Finn seemed genuinely interested in him for more than a “you up?”kind of night. Not that he was opposed to being intimate with Finn—quite the opposite. He just wanted it to be more than sex. He needed a connection; he needed to know that he was with someone who cared about him and wanted him in more ways than just his dick.
Jaime had dated around a little bit in college, but never found someone he’d really connected with. He’d never found someone who looked at the world the same way he did. Plus, as much as he’d loved Sam’s support, he’d been a cockblock.
Who would have thought that having your protective older brother as your college roommate would stop you from getting laid?
So, yeah, Jaime would really like to move this maybe-a-thing with Finn into something deeper. Something real.
And then hopefully have really hot sex.
He blew out a heavy exhale and turned onto the main highway. He needed to focus on the drive, and then on making a good impression on his client before he let himself get distracted all over again by Finn’s smile and general broadness, or spiral into worried and anxious thoughts over whether he was actually interested in something real.
The evening light dimmed to a murky blue with dark, overcast skies, and the early spring breeze blew cold off of Loon Lake as he circled around it heading south into town, so he rolled up his window against the chill.
Spring in this part of Alaska was Jaime’s favorite time of year, with the purple and blue flowers just pushing through the frost and snow still clinging at higher elevation. Caught between winter’s ever-present darkness and the constant, too-bright touch of the midnight sun, Jaime had always found theshort, fleeting season precious, and it frequently featured in his paintings.
Most of Jaime’s commissions were for his work as a pet memorial artist, where clients shared pictures and stories of their beloved companions for him to paint as keepsakes. People typically found him through his digital art on social media, but he took local watercolor commissions, too.
His ability to support himself fully on his art was entirely due to his brother’s help. He’d always had a passion for art, but when Sam’s beloved childhood dog, Alfie, passed away last year he’d decided to paint something in his memory for Sam.
It was the first time Jaime had ever seen his brother break. They lost their mom when Jaime was eight, and even though he was only twelve at the time, Sam shored himself up and sealed away all of his cracks to be strong for Jaime throughout the years as they dealt with their absent and drunken father, who’d been unable to handle her loss.
Jaime hadn’t been able to bear witnessing his brother’s heartbreak from losing Alfie. He wasn’t strong enough to shield Sam from the pain—not in the way that Sam had always been strong enough for him—but he could show him what his love for Alfie looked like.
So, Jaime had painted Alfie in the way he would always remember him, leaping through the field next to their childhood home, chasing all manner of wild creatures until Sam called him inside. He’d painted the joy of knowing that Alfie was forever bounding through that achingly golden field, and he’d painted the deep weight of Sam’s grief splashed across the night sky for being without him.
