One of them, Mr. Garrity, was sitting in what used to be the living room, reading a book. He looked up as Riley and Jason walked in, and there was such shock and delight on his face that Jason realized his offhand comment about the museum not having visitors was probably truer than he’d realized. Hell, he’d lived in the town two and a half years, and he’d never visited. He only knew Mr. Garrity from when he occasionally came into the diner, because although Jason would be quite happy to spend his life cooking in the kitchen, Sam sometimes dragged him out and made sure he met people.
Jason greeted him and introduced Riley, explaining why he was in town. Mr. Garrity’s faded blue eyes brightened at the news.
While he and Riley fell into conversation, Jason found himself facing yet another date-related dilemma. Who should pay their entrance fee? If he paid only for himself, that might look mean because it was only a few dollars, but would it be assuming too much if he paid for Riley as well?
Just as Jason was about to spin into a complete panic, Mr. Garrity insisted on taking Riley through into the next room to show him the pair of dance shoes they had in pride of place, which he swore had belonged to the legendary Silverheels herself. That left Jason and the honesty box looking at one another. He dropped in enough money to cover both their tickets and went after the others.
The place smelled musty and was crammed full of old photos and glass cases. The cases displayed a multitude of artifacts, all resting carefully on red velvet with a typewritten card beside them.
Riley and Mr. Garrity were deep in conversation already.
“These are hers,” Garrity said, reverently gesturing to the delicate shoes behind the glass. “Silverheels herself. Some people say she wasn’t human at all but a mountain-lion shifter who danced to mark her territory. It would explain why she vanished the way she did, like a cat who knew when it was time to go.”
Well, that was the first Jason had heard of it. He supposed it could be true. But then, there were people who believed Elvis had been a cougar shifter, so.
“I’m ashamed to say I don’t know much about her,” Riley said, with a bashful smile. “I’d love to hear her story.”
It was like catnip to Mr. Garrity, who seemed to expand three sizes as he embarked on a history lesson that was way more interesting than any Jason had ever had in school.
He hovered by the door, unsure what to do. After a while, he took half a step forward, before hesitating and realizing all he could do was watch. Riley had this way of pulling people in—his smile, the way he listened, like he was actually interested. Maybe he was. Maybe he was just that kind of person.
Jason didn’t know how to be like that. But God, he wanted to stay close to it for as long as he could.
Riley chuckled at something, and the sound was a heavy weight in Jason’s stomach. He should have been relieved Riley was getting what he needed for his book. Instead, he felt like he was standing outside a house with the door locked—watching warmth spill from the windows but knowing it wasn’t meant for him.
Everything had seemed to be going better, after the mess Jason had made of showing Riley around, but now he was on the outside again. Like always. He had nothing to say, nothing to offer anyone.He’d have to wait for Riley to finish here so he could drive Jason back to the diner, and then he’d go home. At least he’d tried. Though, as the lump in his throat grew, he kind of wished he hadn’t.
He absolutely had to look atsomethingother than Riley, because any second now Riley would look up and find Jason staring at him, rooted to the floor, and realize all over again just how pathetic he was. So Jason glanced around the room, looking for something he could realistically spend time examining.
His heart leapt, his stomach swooped, and he stepped sharply backward—a fearsome grizzly was lurking behind the door, claws out, ready to rend and tear. Except, he realized in the instant before he turned and ran, there were moth holes in the fur and the black eyes that glittered dangerously were glass.
As his heart slowed from its panic-stricken thudding, he found he couldn’t even be amused at his reaction. Matt, or Karl, or Christian—hell,anyof the rest of the pack would have stood their ground, ready to fight. Jason had been an inch away from tucking his tail and running, though he’d have taken Riley and Mr. Garrity with him.
It was why he’d always been found wanting in his old pack. He was too weak. Spineless. Pathetic. His mom had said there was nothing wrong with being gentler than the others, but she was his mom—of course she’d say that. It didn’t make it true.
He breathed out slowly, staring unseeingly at the battered tools in the case in front of him. Dwelling on that wasn’t going to help anything. It wasn’t going to make today less of a disaster. Except… Riley had come over to him.
“Hey.” Riley nudged his arm. “Thanks for bringing me. This is great.”
It was? Jason had never been in a museum before in his life, and had no idea how this measured up to any others.
Before he could answer, Mr. Garrity joined them, and somehow, he made even the old hammers and drills in the case sound interesting. The man had a treasure trove of scandalous stories from the silver boom, mainly passed down from his great-grandfather who had made his fortune in those days. Hence the reason Mr. Garrity could afford to run a museum hardly anyone visited. And while some of those tales were wildly embroidered, judging from the twinkle in the old gentleman’s eyes, they made Riley laugh.
When he laughed, Jason’s heart almost broke. It wasn’t just how stunning he looked but how his entire face lit up. He was so sure of himself, and he looked as if he was havingfun,like he wanted to be here. Riley was perfect—like a precious jewel locked away in its own museum case where Jason could look longingly but would never be able to touch it.
Except… except Riley seemed to be standing closer to him than necessary. He’d leaned against Jason as he’d bent over to look at something, and once he’d straightened, he didn’t move back. If anything, he pressed closer.
Jason could feel the warmth of Riley’s bare arm through his button-down, and every part of him quivered in response. Nerves or need—he couldn’t quite tell. He wished desperately that he’d gone with a short-sleeved shirt, because the thought of them touching skin to skin made his mouth dry.
He swallowed, but it didn’t seem to help. Nor did looking at Riley’s hands, where they rested on the glass case. His fingers were long and graceful, and Jason couldn’t stop thinking how they’d feel on his skin.
Jason didn’t care about Elk Ridge history anymore. He didn’t care about anything except willing Mr. Garrity to leave the room so Riley could touch him, something more than just the tantalizing way their arms were brushing.
Fuck.He was not going to get hard here. He wasnot. He concentrated on pictures of Mr. Garrity’s grandmother’s smallpox scars, which sort of helped. But not enough, because Riley was still so close to Jason, and the faint scent of whatever cologne he wore was mixed with a muskiness that Jason finally realized was arousal. Which would explain why Jason had a semi despite Mr. Garrity’s grandmother.
“I’ll get you a leaflet,” Mr. Garrity said.
The reminder they weren’t alone jerked Jason from his thoughts. His cheeks heated so rapidly he was sure he flushed bright red as he took a hasty step away from Riley.
