Chapter 2

He kicked a loose stone on the pavement and turned his face to the cloudless sky. His eyes closed and hischest lifted as if taking in a deep cleansing breath. He blew it out, rolled his shoulders, and walked toward the door.

I got the distinct impression he’d needed to psych himself up for this interview. Perhaps, like me, this wasn’t his first, and his luck hadn’t been any better than mine.

Less than a minute—that’s how much time I had to figure out how to handle this. I’d made a point of telling previous applicants that I was gay, but only to weed out potential homophobic assholes. In a perfect world, the subject wouldn’t need to come up.

I knew that wouldn’t be an issue with Wes, but neither did I want to come off like some stalker by blurting out I remembered him from university even though we’d never truly interacted, and by the way,I’m gay, too. That kind of intro had “hint, hint” written all over it.

But would it be truly stalker-ish if I didn’t? I drummed my fingers on my hip as my stomach flip-flopped. Maybe it would be—if I planned to try to seduce the man. Did I? No, I had friends with benefits for when I was between relationships. Convenient as it would be, I didn’t need to pursue him. Although, I’d certainly be open to the idea if—

I jumped when he knocked, and wiped my palms on my jeans. Plastering what I hoped was a friendly smile onmy face, I opened the door.

His sandy blond hair and those hazel eyes with their brown ring around the pupil, and a muted light-colored olive outside of that, edged by a darker shade of that olive green, were just like I’d remembered, and I was momentarily caught off guard despite my advanced warning. I coughed nervously before finding my voice. “Uh, hi. I’m Mike Evans. You must be Wes.”

“That’s right.” He held out his hand. “Wes Shaw. Pleased to meet you, Mike.”

I stepped back to usher him in. The door opened directly into the living room. Wes glanced briefly around, then back at me. His brows knit, but not in a concerned manner—more of a “you look familiar but I can’t quite put my finger on it” way. That surprised me, because I was rather nondescript and average looking. Brown hair, brown eyes. Nothing bad about my features, but nothing that would be memorable, either. Besides, it had been what…four years since Wes had received his undergraduate degree? And both my first and last names, at least separately, were common.

He didn’t say anything about it, though, so I launched into my spiel. “We already talked about price on the phone. The bedroom is furnished, but if you have your own furniture, I can put that stuff in my storage unit in the basement. I don’t have anything but a few boxes of holiday stuff down there.”

“No, furnished is great.” Wes grinned. “I’ve been living in student housing, so I don’t have any furniture of my own yet.”

“Great.” That was easier. I motioned with my arm. “As you can see, this is the living room. I like that the kitchen and eating area separate it from the bedrooms. It’s a bit of a buffer for noise in caseone of us is sleeping while the other is up watching TV or whatever.”

“That’s good. I don’t know what my schedule will be yet, but it’s guaranteed to include irregular hours.” Wes took a more thorough look around the room. It was decent-sized with blah-painted walls, but my furniture and accessories were all vibrantly colored. Blue and yellow throw pillows accented a red couch. The vivid blue recliner seemed tame compared to the crazy-patterned, overstuffed chair, although its primary colors tied the furnishings in the room together. The entertainment center was basic black, but I’d painted my large bookcase a bright canary yellow. Wes’s eyes widened slightly ashe took it all in, but if it fazed or bothered him, he didn’t say.

Empty space was evident on the entertainment center and bookcase where Amber’s stuff had been. “Let me know if you need more space on the shelves. We can rearrange and condense my things if necessary.”

“I’ve got a lot of books so I might want to take you up on that.”

Proceeding toward the kitchen, I said, “If we have the same tastes, we could work out a food budget and just share everything instead of each keeping separate food stores. That worked out well with my last roommate.”

That was another thing I already missed about Amber. That woman could work wonders with a pound of hamburger. I’d begged copies of her recipes off her, but I hadn’t tried them myself yet. She’d made amean pot of chili, and her tater tot casserole looked easy enough. The Bierocks seemed complicated, butwould be worth the effort.