Smoky Mountain Dreams (17 page)

“He is not,” Holly said. “The last time you turned that red
when I mentioned someone’s name was during the height of the Gareth bullshit,
which, by the way, he still isn’t over.”

“Don’t start this again.”

“What?”

“You know what. Gareth is absolutely over what happened
between us,” Christopher said. “I don’t know why you think otherwise.”

Normally Christopher hated talking about the Gareth
situation, but he leapt on it like a starving wolf leaps on a defenseless deer.
He wasn’t ready to talk about Jesse yet. Not until he figured out if it was
going to be just another notch on his bedpost of Mortifying Attempts at
Something Beyond Sex. The thing with Gareth was bad enough. He didn’t want to
keep giving his friends reasons to think he was going to end up alone and
miserable.

“Then why does he stare at you all the time with this moony
expression but when you look his way he gets all pissed off?”

“Nope. Nope. Nope.” Christopher shook his head. “No moony
expression. Just hate. Pure hate. Who knew having awesome sex with someone
could make them hate you so much?” He rolled his eyes.

“Because he wants you, dumbass.”

“He’s the one who ended things. Very firmly. And keeps
ending them over and over and over, like he thinks I’m a masochist who enjoys
the repeated humiliation of continual rejection.”

“What’s that Macbeth quote? ‘The lady doth protest too much’?”

“That’s Hamlet, dork.”

“Whatever, some of us didn’t go to a prissy private school.
It doesn’t change the fact that he’s way too big on pushing you away, and that’s
because he wants to drag you closer and make out with your pouty face.”

“He’s got a boyfriend and he lives with him.”

“Yes, yes, the ex who came back from Afghanistan. I know, I
know.” Holly rolled her eyes and turned to where the little boy was still
twisting the horns on the baseball cap. “Hey, honey, if you want to buy that
bring it on up to the register, please. Otherwise be a little more careful, all
right? Thanks, sugar.”

The boy put down the hat and moved on to a different one.

“See how I did that? All those honeys and sugars take the
sting right out. Confuses the Northerners too. Always gotta love that.”

“Bless their hearts.”

“Anyway, I saw Gareth the other night at one of your shows.
I stopped by to see you before going home. You sounded real good, hon, just so
you know.”

“Thanks.” Christopher smiled and thought of Jesse. “People
keep telling me that lately.”

“Because it’s true. If Lash ever goes too far over the edge,
I think you could make a decent replacement.”

“Nah.”

“Why not? People would get used to your lack of grizzle
eventually.”

Christopher shrugged. He doubted it. He’d never have a
tender growl like Lash, or a way of standing on the stage like he owned it. Oh
God,
Lash
. He’d almost forgotten what Jesse had told
him about his name. He fought his chuckle down. He didn’t want Holly prying
into
that
. There’d be way too much explaining behind
it all.

“
Anyway
, you can’t get
me
off track.”

Christopher glanced up at her, sipping the last of his soda,
and tried to look innocent while frantically trying to think of some way to get
her to believe he’d just seen Jesse about his Gran’s necklace and
nothing else
had happened.

“Gareth was there watching you—”

Oh thank God, Gareth again.
He
cleared his throat and nodded, relieved and a little curious about what Gareth
had been doing watching his show anyway. Was she right? Was he still
interested?

Don’t even think about it, buddy,
Gran said in his head.
That man’s a rascal and this Jesse
is worth ten of him. And I don’t just mean because he’s rich as sin.

“And he was staring at you like you were the most beautiful
thing he’d ever seen in his
life
.”

Christopher’s stomach fluttered. “Bullshit, Holls. You’re
reading into it. He probably just really liked the song.”

“Nope! He just really likes
you
.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”

“Nothing but a fairy tale starring a very dubious hero, my
friend.”

“More prissy private school words, dude. And you’ll never
convince me that fairy tales don’t come true.”

“Not this one.”

“Why not? You should talk to him again. See if—”

“No, Holls. I’m not interested in someone who can’t be
all-in with me or has to be talked ‘round to wanting me. Besides, I—”
Christopher stopped short.

“Besides? What? You like being alone?”

“Of course not.” Christopher’s eyes roamed the crowd,
thinking of Jesse’s smile and the intense focus he’d demonstrated in bed, the
vulnerable revelations about his wife and the weird way he’d taken stock of
Christopher’s house.
There’s loneliness layering over it. I
think that might be you.
Yeah, it
was
him.
And he didn’t want to be lonely anymore. Gareth, for all that the sex had been
good, had left him lonely and hurt. Why would he want to go back for more?

“Wait, you little devil,” Holly said. “You
did
get me off track and I didn’t even know. Oh my God,
you have to tell me about Jesse Birch!”

Christopher feigned confusion. “He’s making a necklace for
Gran. What more do you want to know?”

“Oh hell no. You can’t lie to me. I know you too well for
that. And you’re a terrible liar.”

“Am I?”

Holly looked like she might say more but someone had finally
decided to buy the “
Apple Orchard, Baby
” hat which featured
two lines of Melissa Mundy’s lyrics under a six-inch tree with removable apples
on top. As she rang up the blond woman with probably fake tits, Christopher
took his leave, calling over his shoulder, “See you later, Holls.”

“I won’t forget, Christopher Ryder! I will force it out of
you!” she called after him, shaking her head, and then smiling prettily for the
customer’s money.

Christopher wandered off into the stream of SMD patrons and
decided to look for a present for Gran in one of the gift stores. He planned to
go see her on Friday, his day off, and he didn’t like to show up to the nursing
home empty handed. As he walked, he pulled out his phone, embarrassed by his
own compulsion to check if Jesse had texted again.

As he rounded the edge of Smoky Mountain Dream’s Marmalade
and Jam-boree, planning to stop in because he’d remembered how much Gran had
enjoyed the blackberry jam he’d taken her in summer, he glanced up and saw
Jesse standing at a popcorn booth less than twenty feet away.

Sunglasses didn’t disguise his chin and narrow nose, the
length of his neck, or the confidence of his stance—all of which Christopher
hadn’t realized he’d already so thoroughly memorized. Even from a distance,
Christopher’s eyes were drawn to his handsome hands and their long, slim
fingers.

Jesse scratched at his unshaven cheek, and then shoved his
hand into the pocket of his worn jeans. Christopher felt a cool, refreshing
rush under his skin, and he took a step forward. Jesse’s name was almost out of
his mouth when he realized Jesse wasn’t alone. No, he stood there, looking
plenty warm in his jacket, both hands stuffed in his jean pockets now, gazing
down at a girl and a boy who were both talking and gesturing animatedly.

Will and Brigid
, Christopher
remembered, and he halted mid-step, hesitation tempering his excitement. Jesse
pushed his sunglasses on top of his beanie before reaching to take a plastic
bag of yellow and brown candied popcorn from a slim older lady with long gray
hair as an older man with a gray braid paid for the popcorn at the cart.

It’s a family outing.
Christopher
looked at the children more closely, trying to decide if he should walk over or
not. Obviously Jesse hadn’t come here to see him, but would he mind running
into him? And how would he introduce himself? They weren’t really friends. Were
they?

Christopher licked his lips and studied the family longer.
The older man slung his arm around the woman—the parents-in-law, Christopher
supposed—and all of them focused on the children. Both of whom were still
talking.

Will looked like a sturdy boy with his light brown hair and
what seemed to be an easy smile on his face. He bounced on his toes and had his
father’s physical confidence, holding himself loosely. He wore a long sleeve
University of Tennessee Volunteers jersey and no coat, though Christopher
realized the older woman was carrying one that must surely be his.

Brigid had long dark hair that was held off her
adolescent-awkward face with a well-placed and very sparkly barrette. She wore
a silver and purple puffy jacket, and in her stance and movements, she gave the
impression of being somehow more contained than Will, less confident.
Christopher watched as Brigid shook her head, sighed dramatically and pulled
what looked like a moderately crushed origami paper crane from her pocket. She
shook it at her father and held up seven fingers.

Jesse nodded at whatever she was saying as he opened the
plastic bag of popcorn and handed it to Will, who took a handful and crammed it
into his face. Jesse chuckled and ran his hand over his son’s head, the faded
autumn light catching in the waves of his hair and lighting up the angle of his
darkly stubbled jaw. Christopher swallowed and his heart warmed in his chest.
How had he managed to sleep with someone that sexy not once, but
twice
?

Jesse’s head turned slightly and his dark eyes landed on
Christopher. The smile that cracked over Christopher’s face was instinctual. He
hadn’t planned it but now that he’d been caught looking, he fell into the
polite social behaviors ingrained in him from childhood.

When you see someone you know,
Christopher, smile, stick a hand out and say hello.

But Christopher didn’t make it to step number two because
Jesse turned his back and said something to the man with long hair. The family
started walking away.

Christopher swallowed hard, humiliation a slap of heat in
his cheeks. He turned awkwardly toward the jam shop and went inside, tightness
warring with something hot and unpleasant in his chest. So what if Jesse didn’t
want to introduce him to his family? Why should he?

You got nothing to be ashamed of, baby.
Nothing at all.

“I know that, Gran,” he muttered to himself.

And on the heels of his conversation with Holly, it smacked
too strongly of the rejection after his hook-up with Gareth.

It was the wrong place, wrong time, is
all, young’un. Chin up. Give ‘im a chance to explain.

Christopher wondered that the Gran in his head was already a
Jesse apologist. Just what did that say about him and his self-esteem? He
lifted his hand absently to Sherrilyn behind the counter, and moved down the
aisles toward the back of the store where the blackberry jam was stacked neatly
on shelves by an unlit fireplace.

As he stared at the jam labels, he tried to focus his mind
by making up a choice—would Gran like a blend better than just plain blackberry
this time? He rolled his shoulders and rubbed at his tense jaw, the ache in the
pit of his gut all too reminiscent of being called a fag back in high school.
He blinked, shook his head, and brought his attention back to the jam jars. He’d
had sex with the guy twice, had a few conversations, and some flirty texts. So
what if he wasn’t ready to introduce him to his kids? Kids were serious
business.

And the in-laws were there too. How awkward would that have
been? “Parents of my dead wife, allow me to present Christopher Ryder, the guy
I screwed while you took care of my kids the other night.” Christopher rolled
his eyes at himself. Time to put on his big-boy pants and get over it.

Like you would’ve called him on over to
meet your mama? Who do you think you’re foolin,’ boy?

He would have, though. He’d have introduced Jesse to his
mother and Bob had the situation been reversed, if only to see Bob’s head spin
around and Bible quotes start spewing from his mouth like vomit. A situation
like that would be the only time Christopher thought he might actually enjoy
seeing Bob lose his religious mind. It was an untested theory, since he’d never
had a guy to introduce to the family. He’d had to endure Bob’s lectures on sin
and redemption alone, armed only with disdain and the shreds of self-respect
Gran had managed to instill in him.

Jesse’s relationship with his in-laws was probably nothing
like that.

Just as Christopher picked up a jam jar at random and started
toward the front to pay, his phone vibrated in his pocket. It could only be
Jesse. No one else had his number yet. He returned to the back corner of the
store before pulling up the text.

Jesus, I’m sorry about that.

Christopher glanced up at Sherrilyn, who was busy tying
little ribbons around some jam jar lids to dress them up a bit for the front
tables. He toyed with sending a playful, “Jesus forgives you, my son. Say two
Hail Marys and sin no more,” when Jesse sent another message.

I panicked. It was stupid. I’d like you
to let me make it up to you. We’re at the blacksmith’s shop. Come join us? I
want to introduce you to my in-laws if that’s okay?

Christopher responded.

Don’t worry about it. I understand.

Jesse replied with a frowny face and:

Well, I don’t understand. I’m not
usually an asshole and I like you. So let me introduce you? Come join us,
please. Or I can come to you?

Christopher hesitated, his hands shaking a little. His
cheeks heated. Who knew why this already meant so much to him?