My throat tightens.
Me:He leaves Tuesday morning. So I’d just need tonight’s shift covered, if you can. His name is Miles, btw. I’ll fill you in on the rest later.
Declan’s response is instant.You got it, man. Bring him over for dinner tomorrow. We’d love to meet him. Miles obviously makes you happy, and that makes me like the guy already!
A strange, warm feeling settles in my chest when I think of Miles at the table with my friends. Would he like them or be comfortable around them? Declan and Seth can be notoriouslyteasing after a few beers. Plus, he’s so different from them. Would he even fit in? Or would he feel out of place? I want them all to like each other.
I’ll see how today goes before bringing it up with Miles.
“Well, I feel better,” Miles says, coming into the room. My cock stirs a little at the sight of his damp hair and freshly-shaven face, but the burning desire I’d felt last night isn’t there. I still want him, but in a different way.
I smooth my shirt down as I stand. “Ready to have some fun?”
“Maybe.” He folds his arms across his chest. So sassy, but I adore it. “You still haven’t told me what we’re doing.”
I laugh. “Did you expect me to have a plan, showing up out of the blue like you did?”
“So we’re winging it?”
“Totally winging it.”
His expression softens, attention darting to my mouth like he’s thinking of kissing me again. I kiss him instead, tugging him to the door.
We go for a drive with the windows down and music up. I won’t admit it, but I need air. I need space and time to process what him showing up means to me. Miles not only came here, but he bought me food. Not justsomefood, either. No. He’d restocked my entire fridgeandpantry. Who does that?
Someone who cares about me, that’s who.
It seems impossible to think we could have this deep of a connection already, given how short of time we’ve known each other, but I felt it last night, and this morning.
Miles cares for me. Deeply.
Which means I owe him the truth before we go any further. He deserves to know what he’s getting himself into.
After showing Miles some of the prettier parts of town, I swing by the hidden botanical garden tucked behind a community center. It’s my favorite place in all of San Diego. There are nolines, no guided tours. Just bees, bougainvillea, and an old man in a bucket hat taking tickets.
Carlos perks up when he sees me. “Ah, Jordan! You’re back.”
I hand him a twenty. When he tries to give me change, I wave him off. “Add it to the donation box.”
The older man’s sun-kissed face breaks into a radiant smile. “We miss seeing you around here. You’re always welcome to volunteer again.”
Guilt clenches my chest. I haven’t volunteered in over a year. “Yeah, I’ll try.”
Miles and I walk for a while in silence, winding between shaded paths and succulents that are larger than my arm span. It smells of soil and heat and honeysuckle—everything I love. Miles enjoys it too, commenting on floral archways and decorated birdbaths. We both pause to watch two lizards skitter up a large cactus, then Miles turns to me, glasses pushed up from how big he’s smiling.
He hasn’t stopped smiling all morning, and it’s starting to twist a knife in my chest. I don’t want to ruin his joy. Or mine. I’m still floating just from being near him, and I know the moment I talk about my past, it’ll invite the darkness in.
“Did you grow up in San Diego?” Miles asks as we start the second loop. He brushes a hand over a massive elephant ear leaf.
“No. Actually, I grew up in St. George, Utah.”
He whips his head around. “Really?”
“It’s a city just north of the Arizona border.”
“Yeah, I know. People at work have talked about it. It’s close to the Grand Canyon, right?”
“Kind of. It’s a couple of hours away.” Too bad I never visited. Dad never took us. He never did much of anything, now that I think about it.
