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When the Jazzman Sings

Because of a deathbed promise to his father, Elijah Peck reluctantly left his friends and successful career in Bridgeport to return to Willowby, Connecticut, the small town of his upbringing, in order to run the antique shop that had been in his family for generations. Now, in just the span of two years, Eli has morphed into a social recluse, isolated in what he believes is a stuffy, suffocating nowheresville. With no thriving gay community at his disposal, and with his entire existence wrapped around the store he never really wanted, Eli's devoted little time to his personal needs. As a result, instead of acting like a man in his mid-thirties, living out his own dreams, maybe even finding love with the right guy, he often feels like just another item in his shop -- a dusty, moldy antique that has seen better days.<br><br>But all that starts to change when a stranger moves to Willowby.<br><br>One night outside his shop, Eli has a chance encounter with Neville "Gray" Grayson, a wickedly handsome musician who's purposely left the bustle of New York City in favor of quiet country living. Eli is instantly drawn to Gray, and the flirtatious jazzman stirs dormant feelings inside Eli, reinvigorating his hopes for a brighter future. Not only does Gray make Eli feel attractive for the first time in years, but also makes him appreciate small-town life in a way he never has before. And Eli can't help but wonder if Gray's presence also offers the promise of finding much-needed companionship, sexual fulfillment, and perhaps even love ...

Karma Eastwick · LGBT+
Pas assez d’évaluations
33 Chs

Chapter 5

Gray opened his menu again, then glanced at me over the folded top. “Hungry? The appetizers look so damned delicious.”

“They aren’t the only things…” Oh man, did I just say that out loud?

I sure did, since Gray gave me another one of his sexy smiles. “Now who’s flirting? Is that the beer talking, or you?”

I shrugged. “A little bit of both, I guess.”

“That’s definitely good to know.”

Before I could think of something to say other than an asinine remark about him being enough of an appetizer for me—shit, I was really rusty at this flirting stuff—a waitress stepped up to the booth to save me from embarrassment.

Violet, a full-figured, twenty-something beauty who had worked here for the past few months, gave me a nod. “How’s it hanging, Eli?”