Chapter Two

Those attempts at stopping myself from remembering the past weren’t entirely successful and, as a result, I had not only a shitty day, but a craptacious week. Working at a bank had certainly never been my dream job, but that was where I’d ended up. Being a bank teller was not a rewarding career, either. Some of the people I dealt with on a daily basis were just dead-set on being assholes.

It wasn’t until I was walking home from work Friday that it dawned on me—my thirtieth birthday was coming up. In two days, in fact. I groaned and ignored the people walking around me giving me funny looks. My friends were going to want to either throw me a surprise party I really didn’t want-- though they’d mean well—or drag me out to party at Ben’s, the only gay club within a fifty-mile radius of our town. Neither option held much appeal. I didn’t feel like celebrating the big Three-O when I had nothing to show for three decades on this planet.

My mobile home was older than I was, though I did the best I could to keep it from looking like it was going to fall apart. I didn’t own it, either. I hadn’t had a serious relationship in so long that I’d given up on even a contentedly-ever-after, much less a happy-ever-after. Or even a not-always-miserable-ever-after. There wouldn’t be any new blood at Ben’s, either and there certainly weren’t any available gay men that I would be willing to date—and vice versa—in the local area. My friends were a mix of sexualities, but most of them were paired up or happily fucking their way through whoever appealed to them. I, however, had become exceptionally close with my right hand in the past couple of years. At this point, it looked like that relationship would continue into the far future.

All right, so that was a bit pessimistic. I’ve never been accused of being an optimist anyway.

But back to the walk home. I was mulling over how hot and humid it was and trying to figure the odds on what was going to be proposed for my birthday. In my left trouser pocket, I rubbed my thumb over the jasper stone I carried. It was my touchstone, soothing me when I needed it to and whether that was good or bad, it was a fact.

The stone was hot and my palm was sweaty. All of me was sweaty, for that matter. I was pretty sure I was an absolute mess. At best, I was an average-looking guy. No six-pack abs and perfect hair, though I wasn’t overweight or balding, and there was nothing wrong with either of those things. They just weren’t me.

Today, I’d run my other hand through my hair so many times that chances were good my brown locks were standing up all over. It didn’t really matter to me. I was just going home.

When he bumped my shoulder, I muttered a “Sorry” and wondered whether I’d been the asshole or if he’d not paid attention to where he was going. The vote was definitely leaning toward me since I had been looking down, counting the cracks in the sidewalk.

Before I could get another step farther, I found myself almost walking directly into a man who suddenly stepped in front of me. My nose was about level with his Adam’s apple—lucky him, his was small and didn’t stick out like mine—and he was broader than me, as in, muscle-y broader.

I had to tip my head up to look him in the eyes and I couldn’t help but note the perfection of his features as I did so. His neck was thick, corded in that muscular, sexy way, and he had just the right amount of golden stubble starting at his jawline, which of course was every man’s dream jawline. He had that dimple in his chin and two more on his cheeks when he smiled. His teeth were perfect, white, straight, his lips full but not overly so. They were a very attractive pinkish-coral color and his nose was what I’d expect on such a handsome man—a strong line, not too big or too small.

His eyes were deep-set but not hooded, thick, golden-tipped lashes and irises as blue as the Texas sky. He was a natural blond—his eyebrows proved it. I thought I knew who everyone was in the town of Benton, but apparently I was wrong. I’d never seen such a gorgeous man there—or anywhere else in person before. An old memory floated up of a church sermon from my youth, when we’d gone to every service held at The First Pentecostal Cross Church. Pastor Allen had lectured us on beauty, equating it with evil. He’d talked about how handsome Satan was supposed to have been, the most beautiful of God’s angels. Why that memory surfaced, I didn’t know. I guess I was just so startled by the stranger’s good looks.

Visitor, my brain said, or lost. I licked my suddenly dry lips and tried to swallow, but choked and ended up sputtering and hacking, totally making a fool of myself. At least I had the sense to turn aside and cover my mouth with the inside of my elbow, like my mother had taught me.

But I was completely mortified. I rubbed the stone harder as I prayed the man would be gone when I was done spluttering.

He wasn’t. He was still standing there, smiling at me. I saw old Mrs. Truett standing not six feet away, glaring at us both. No surprise there. She took great joy in telling me and any other person who wasn’t a straight white male or female that they were going to Hell. I usually winked at her, but since my eyes were watering, I couldn’t get my shit together enough to do so this time.

Plus, there was the man. The stranger. The perfect depiction of a god come to Earth. I wasn’t exaggerating, much. He was that handsome.

The stone seemed to grow warm in my hand, enough that I gasped and let it go. I still felt it, getting hotter by the second, burning against my thigh through the material of my trousers.

“Excuse me,” I squeaked out, wiping at my eyes with one hand. “I—I—It’s—” Oh for fuck’s sake! Why did my brain and mouth refuse to work together? “Er, I didn’t mean to walk into you.”

“I stepped in front of you,” he replied, his voice deep, rumbly, sexy. My dick would have grown hard just from that had I not still been so embarrassed. “I wanted to talk to you.”

I was confused. “Me?” And showing off my brilliant conversational skills.

“Yes, you.” He held out his right hand. “I’m Avery, Avery Edwards. I’ve just recently moved to Benton and could use some friends. Would you be interested in maybe getting a drink with me?”

My hesitation must have made him think I was going to refuse. He spoke quicker and caressed my hand before letting it go. “Just a drink. I’d like to get to know you.”

I didn’t question him. Why turn down a handsome man? “Matthew Callaghan. I actually could use something to eat, too. That okay with you?”