"Hi. You must be TD. I'm Tex. Come on in."
His smile comes easily as he moves aside to let me into the snug little space, all warm tones and soft lighting with not a black candle nor any skull décor in sight. I'm pissed at myself for immediately going there. Other people are easily led fools, not me. Or so I like to tell myself.
"Good flight?" he asks, and something about his sunny voice just puts me at ease.
"Horrible."
His smile doesn't diminish, and his eyes sparkle with amusement. "I'd be more surprised if you said yes. Is that all your luggage?"
"It is."
"Cool. Follow me, and I'll show you to your room. It's a small place, but don't worry, I'm sure the team will find you something better soon," he says as he points out theliving room that feeds into a compact kitchen. We walk down a tight hallway that splits into two adjoining bedrooms on one side and a bathroom on the other side.
"This is fine. More than fine. Thank you," I add, since I'm sure this is probably inconvenient, and I suspect his brother had something to do with setting this up.
He steps into what will be my bedroom and turns around, that smile a permanent fixture on his handsome, boyish face. "Not going to lie. Kimmy did spring this on me today, but as long as you don't mind living with a mortician, I'm cool."
His voice sharpens just a touch.
"I have no problem with that at all," I say, even if I am trying to reconcile his easygoing, warm demeanor with his work. Why does my brain keep circling back toThe Addams Familyas a default reference point? I really wish it wouldn't.
"Awesome." His smile grows even more. "This place has hardly any storage, so I've moved my fishing gear to one side to clear as much space as possible for you in the wardrobe." He points to a lightly scuffed pine wardrobe with old-fashioned rounded edges and small brass knobs. His eyes fall to my luggage. "Not that it looks like you'll need much space."
"That'll be great. Thanks."
"Feel free to settle in, take a shower to get all that plane ick off you, and then, are you hungry?"
My stomach chooses to answer for me, letting out an almighty loud growl. "Yeah. I skipped the mystery pasta served on the flight."
"Good thinking." He lets out a quick, bright laugh. "I was going to suggest going to The Leafy Nook. It's only a block away, and unless I'm grilling up some freshly caughtfish, your odds of surviving my cooking are on par with the mystery flight pasta."
I crack a grin, completely disarmed by this guy's charm. His ease. His (seeming) lack of judgment about me since, given his brother's coaching career, he'd have to have at least heard of me and some of the vicious rumors of late. I'm surprised he agreed to even take me on.
"Let's do it," I say. "I'll grab a quick shower, and then I'm buying you dinner."
He looks over at me, still smiling, and it loosens something in my chest.
4
Tex
I wave to my bestie at the bar, and he smiles and waves back as I thread my way to a quiet corner table glowing under the string of fairy lights. "Two things you need to know about me," I say to TD. "One, I don't function without strong coffee, and two, this is where I eat all my meals and hang out when I'm not fishing."
"Uh-huh. Who do you go fishing with?"
"No one. Bean thinks it's boring, and Kimball is so squeamish it's not funny. Actually, it's hilarious. But, yeah, they're both not into it, so it's just me."
"I see."
We sit down at a table that Bean cobbled together from reclaimed planks last summer. I take the wicker chair, and TD plonks his ass on the metal one. I really shouldn't be thinking about his ass because from what I've seen of it—round, muscular, and filling out his jeans very nicely—I want to dive in and devour it. And if I even get an inkling it's slightly hairy, I'll be even more of a goner.
Yes, I'm a bottom, but I'm a bottom wholoveseating ass, proving, if nothing else, that those two things can be true at the same time.
"Bean made this table," I say, sliding my hands over the planks to gain control over my thoughts. "He's made a lot of these pieces, and he's even started selling some of his stuff. It's over by the entrance."
TD grins for the second time. "Yeah. He mentioned that."
I beam across the café to my bestie. I'm so proud of him. I never knew when I played a hand in him and Kimball getting together that it would also result in hisself-confidence improving so much. He used to downplay his furniture making all the time, and now he fucking owns it and is telling strangers about it. Good for him.
