“Just so long as Jason knows you’re only passing through,” Sam said.
Ah. The protective-mom speech. “He does,” he said firmly.
“Good,” she said. “Your food should be up in ten.”
It was. What was even better was that it was delivered by Jason, looking delightfully flushed and a little flustered, because apparently Sam had insisted she was too busy to serve Riley herself. Seeing Jason approach, Riley couldn’t stop the grin stretching across his face. He got to his feet, leaning in to press a brief kiss to Jason’s lips.
When he pulled back, Jason looked highly self-conscious but more than a little pleased, and Riley could see a wicked smile on Sam’s face from across the diner. Hell, Riley didn’t mind being the entertainment if it meant he got to kiss Jason.
“So, this afternoon,” he said. “What are you going to show me?”
It took Jason a moment to answer. If the look in his eyes was anything to go by, that was because his mind had gone to the same place as Riley’s—Jason stretched out on his bed, completely naked.
“I thought we could check out the microbrewery,” Jason said at last.
“Check out the beer or check out each other?” Riley asked, and Jason’s cheeks flushed pink. He wasadorable—something Riley had never thought about anyone before.
“It’s a little way out of town, but I thought if there was enough interest from visitors, they could do tasting sessions or something. And the beer’s good,” Jason said in a rush, seeming to want to steer the conversation back to where he felt safe. Or to what he’d practiced saying beforehand.
“Sounds perfect,” Riley agreed. “We could bring some back with us and do some taste testing in my room. And then maybe we could drink the beer.”
Jason’s pink cheeks turned deep, dusky red, but his eyes were glued to Riley’s face as if he never wanted to stop looking at him. Riley would have felt smug as hell about that fact if he weren’t feeling the exact same way about Jason. He had no idea when it had happened, but he didn’t want to let Jason out of his sight again.
“Jason, honey,” Sam sashayed up to their table and put her hand on Jason’s shoulder. Riley bit back his instant jealousy. “I hate to interrupt, but I think something’s on fire.”
“Oh,hell.”
And Jason was gone, leaving Sam smirking and Riley counting the minutes to three o’clock.
* * *
The microbrewery sounded interesting. Riley kept repeating that to himself as he drove out of town, attempting to keep his attention on the road instead of the thigh in blue denim that was only inches away from him.
Jason was slouched comfortably in the car seat, his long legs sprawled, which brought one of them so damn close to Riley that he only needed to move his hand the slightest bit and he’d be able tofeel the warm muscle beneath the denim. He was fairly sure Jason was just relaxing after work, not trying to kill Riley, but the effect was the same either way.
With Riley concentrating on not jumping Jason, conversation was sparse, yet it didn’t feel uncomfortable. It felt a littletoocomfortable, given that they didn’t know one another. There was something about Jason’s undemanding warmth that made Riley feel good inside.
“I called Tim, explained why you’re in town, and he invited us out here,” Jason said as Riley turned off the road to maneuver up the rutted driveway that Jason had indicated.
“Everyone in this town really does know everyone else.” Riley was amused by the thought that Elk Ridge bought into the small-town stereotype so enthusiastically.
“I guess because I work in the diner, I’ve gotten to know a lot more people than I would otherwise,” Jason said.
“How long have you worked there?” Riley asked, pulling up outside the house.
“Nearly two and a half years.” Jason got out of the car and waited for Riley to follow suit before he continued. “I was hitchhiking, got dropped off in Elk Ridge by a ride and saw theHelp Wantedsign in the diner window. That’s why I stayed. To start with, anyway.”
“You weren’t born here?” Riley asked, realizing he’d broken the first law of investigative journalism andassumed.Not that he had any interest in investigating Jason. Not in a way his paper would approve of, anyway.
Before Jason could answer, he was greeted by a shout from the house. A stout, affable-looking man strode across the grass to meet them.
The microbrewery looked more like a barn than a business, though the scents of hops and yeast hung heavy in the air. As theylooked around the brewery, sampling the products and talking about beers they’d known and loved, Riley forgot all about the topic of where Jason came from.
But he evidently wasn’t the only one wondering about the other. When they walked back to their car, visit finished, Jason asked, “Have you written other travel books? Or something else I could read?”
Unlike Matt Urban, he sounded enthusiastic at the prospect.
Riley shook his head, irritation flickering. He wanted to feel at ease with Jason, not boxed in by the lie that got them here.
