Chapter 2

I’d seen that look in a man’s eyes before—quite a lot, actually—prior to moving back to Willowby nearly two years ago. The dude was checking me out, actually cruising me right here in front of my shop like the guys used to do in front of a gay bar in Bridgeport I’d often frequented. Would wonders never cease?

“Everything around here appears closed,” he said, then released a disappointed sigh.

“Yeah,” I answered, giving him a humorless grin. “They pretty much roll up the sidewalks around here when the sun sets.”

“Do you happen to know of anywherein town where I can still get a bite to eat and an ice-cold beer?”

“It depends.”

“On what?”

“On the type of mood you’re in. Do you want lively, fast, and furious”—fond recollections of cruising for cock in Bridgeport came flooding back to mind—“or laid-back, leisurely…and oh, so gentle?”

I’d uttered that last question in almost a growl while giving him a languid once-over myself, and not hiding the fact either. What the hell, I thought, it was worth a shot. If I’d judged properly, his approximate weight as well as his six-foot-two stature matched mine. I would also bet, if compared side by side, my arm and chest muscles had a bit more bulk. So if I’d misread the signals he’d tossed out and he ended up being a homophobe scouting for trouble, I knew I could defend myself. I had on a few occasions many years ago, which was why no one in this town, especially those with a good memory, had messed with me since my return.

To my thrill, his smile widened even more, while one dark eyebrow quirked upward. The sudden sparkle in his eyes conveyed a ribald sense of humor, a clear indication that he’d caught my subtle double entendre, and of greater importance, that he liked it.

“The latter, most definitely,” he said. “Languid…gentle…oh, yeah, I prefer taking my time when it comes to…entertainment.”

“Then you’ve certainly come to the right place, considering the general dreariness of this town.”

“Dreary? Definitely not from where I’mstanding.” Another smile enlivened his face as his gaze crawled over my chest and upper arms. For work, I had donned a simple black T-shirt, one tight enough to display the evidence of my daily appointment with the bench press in my apartment. The fact that he obviously approved of my efforts to keep in shape had my blood racing even more. “I want a place to just kick back with a frosty beer, with soft lighting and low music, somewhere I can converse without having to shout over the din. And if I’m lucky enough, maybe I can persuade a sexy stranger into being my dinner companion.”

Holy fuck! Yes, honest, open flirtation, a breath of fresh air, something almost completely foreign to me since returning to this slumberous old hamlet. “Then that would be The Silent Seagull.”

“Interesting name, considering this town is nowhere near the coast.”

“Try telling that to the owner. Nevertheless, the ‘silent’ part of the name is more than appropriate. Plus, the food is good, but the alcohol is even better.”

“Sounds too perfect. Is it within walking distance?”

Glancing at only two cars parked along the block, and several bicycles chained to saplings on the sidewalk, I laughed. “If you haven’t noticed by now, just about everything in this town is within walking distance, pal. The bar is just around that next corner, in fact.” I cocked my thumb toward the west.

“Hmm…since I’m new around here, and I actually have a tendency to get lost in unfamiliar places, can I convince you to show me?”

I smirked. Get lost? In a bumble-fuck town like this?Nice pick-up line, buddy boy. But his obvious deception intrigued me even more, so I decided to play along.

“Unless it’s out of your way or you need to get somewhere—”

“No, not out of my way at all.”

And there’s nowhere I’d rather be, I wanted to add, but didn’t. Even though I lived directly above my business, with the separate entrance to the staircase leading up to my apartment wedged unobtrusively between one wall of my shop and the ice cream parlor next door, I would have walked anywhere for a chance to share a few more minutes with this guy. Hell, I would have trudged a detour through Outer Mongolia just to talk to him some more. Spending the past few minutes in his company had been about the most exciting thing to happen to me in months.

I pulled a deep breath, then gestured again toward the corner. “This way.”

We started down the street, wordlessly passing the darkened windows of Sophie’s Boutique, Hackley’s Shoe Emporium, and Washington’s Den, another antique shop, one that specialized in Revolutionary War relics. All the while, I struggled to find something intelligent to say, but my mind had lost the ability to concentrate. I feared if I dared to open my mouth, nothing but senseless blathering would emerge.