“I’m not entirely sure what the original purpose was,” I said, trying to stay cool, “but there’s an outbuilding in the back that was set up as an apartment, and that’s where I’ve moved in.”
“I’m following you,” he said.
I bit back about five dirty comebacks and led him past the main rooms, through the kitchen, and out the back door. A small courtyard separated the house from my new space. A white picket-fence gate markedPrivateswayed slightly in the breeze.
“My brothers said I should’ve focused on the main house first,” I said, “but I’d never get anything done that way.”
“Why’s that?” Hank sounded genuinely curious.
“Because I know me. My immediate space needs to be functional, or I can’t make anything else work. One zone at a time, finish it, and move on.”
We stepped onto the porch. A bistro table and chairs sat off to the side. Across from them was a hanging swing with faded rainbow pillows and a few large planters full of rosemary, verbena, and lantana.
“It looks good out here,” Hank said. “I think this might’ve been part of the original homestead, back when it was still a working ranch.”
The admiration in his voice made my chest puff up a little.
“Yeah. They modernized the inside but kept a lot of the original features—like the outside staircase to the upstairs. No idea why, maybe as a fire escape?”
“Or so you didn’t wake the kids coming in late,” Hank offered.
“Or to sneak around an angry husband,” I said with a grin.
When Hank chuckled, it felt like I’d won something important. Guys liked guys who made them laugh, so I needed more of that energy. He might not be into dating me, but I was a fun friend, and I’d left all those behind in Washington.
We stepped inside, and Hank gave a low whistle. He did a slow turn and took in the open-plan living, dining, and kitchen area.
“Three days? How the hell did you do this in three days if you just moved in?” The living room furniture was older, but the quilts I’d found in the cupboards helped disguise its age. The dark-oak pedestal table was scrubbed, polished, and shiny. The kitchen was bright and sunny with a few herb pots I’d brought with me on the trip. I’d snagged some zinnias from the front yard, and they sat in the middle of the table in their cheerful glory.
“Lots of elbow grease, a dream, and a third cousin twice removed who had a love of collecting great stuff but never used it.” Hank was still slow spinning around when he stopped and homed in on my cozy corner. “And how do you know I’ve been here three days?”
“You think I don’t know what’s going on right next door?” Hank scoffed.
Oh shit.
Oh shit.
Oh shit.
Tucked away was a kid-sized table from the barn, a couple of floor pillows I found in the main house, and a six-hole Mexican sugar mold that held my crayons and colored pencils. One of the matching chairs had a few stuffies perched on it, like they’d been posed deliberately.
All of that could be explained or ignored. But the sippy cup? That was a solid nope. Without a toddler in sight, there was truly only one explanation that made any sense. I’d been so busy prepping for dinner that I’d set it down and then promptly forgotten about it. The sippy cup was a flower-and-bumblebee admission about my free time.
Beverage choices really have done me in.
“Yeah,” I said, my voice a little too tight and cracking more than I wanted. “I’m a little. Do you know what that is?”
Hank’s lips twitched. “I’ve got Grindr and Pornhub with a VPN like everyone else.”
“Pardon?” I blinked. And then did it several more times. “Pornhub, sure. Grindr is a specific subset, my guy.”
“Yeah, that’s true.”
I held my breath longer than expected because Hank glanced down at me with a raised eyebrow. I was almost scared to ask, but I did it anyway. “Are you gay?”
“Bi.”
“Well damn, Daddy.”
