“But I don’t think it’s fair for you to write me off because of your assumptions about me.”

“Okay, let’s be fair, then. You’ve had a little more time to think about all of this. I have made no secret about who I am and what I’m dealing with—since the day we met you’ve known.  So excuse me if it’s taking a minute for me to catch up about who you are and what actually you want.” Sam lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender.  Brandon hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “And besides…other than the elephant that we left back in your kitchen, was I really that far off the mark in the things I said in there?  My ‘assumptions?’”

He cocked his head in thought before smiling in concession. “Okay, no. Not really.”  Brandon returned a smug look.  “But hey, come on—that’s not the whole picture.  Look—” he slid from his chair and squatted in front of Brandon, placing his hands on the arms of his chair.  The smoldering sensation that had lingered after the kiss suddenly intensified as Sam’s arms spread like an invitation while his body sat before him like a barrier. Sam looked up with eyes that were almost pleading. “The reason I divorced my wife is because I didn’t want to be married to a woman anymore. If you simply aren’t interested, then I respect that. But please don’t dismiss the chance for me to make a connection with you without—without knowing the facts.”

Brandon narrowed his eyes. “Did you contrive this whole scenario just to bring me here?”  He took on an absurdly affected tone. “‘Oh, gee…I’ve been so busy as head of my kids’ PTA and rebuilding a church from scratch that I totally forgot your keys.  Why don’t you come to my place and get them?’”  

Sam widened his eyes in mock horror. “Of course not! I’m not even on the PTA.”  Brandon arched a brow. “Seriously. No nefarious plan. I swear. You’re standing in my kitchen, which is like two feet wide, you say all this insightful stuff, you smell good, and…I don’t know. I’ve never done anything like this before.  I’m sorry.  But only a little.”

He sat looking up at him almost hopefully. Brandon looked skyward and groaned. “Why couldn’t you have dropped a few hints before you blindsided me like that?  Given me a chance to get used to the idea?”

“Ah, I see. You need pursuit. A few subtle flirts.” Sam removed a hand from the chair and placed it on Brandon’s knee.  “Mea culpa.” Brandon looked down at it, felt its warmth radiating through his pants.  And spreading. Sam’s right eye twitched in a half wink before his rose to his feet and backed into his chair. 

“Oh, you’re good.”  

He casually shrugged. “Would you really like to know?”

Actually, Brandon was ashamed at just how much he burned to know. He wanted to feel those lips again. To have Sam’s rough, working hands directly on his skin. A slippery drop of the possibility was already touching his inner thigh.  Sam’s rhythmically flexed the foot he had crossed over his knee. The NoBull high top nodded at Brandon. The thought of Sam’s weight pressing against him—that foot exacting pain and pleasure—and another jewel of longing blossomed forth.  It cooled as it slid from him. 

He fought for control.  Waiting for words, he scanned the horizon. Sam’s hilltop afforded an astounding view. The sugar maples were blushing scarlet at the tips, as though they knew his struggle. “You owe me a dinner,” he finally announced. He was almost as surprised as Sam to hear it.  

“Do I?”

“Yes. You do. A lease sign-on bonus.”

“How clumsy of me to make such an oversight.  Clearly I’m not a very good landlord.”

Brandon waggled his hand dismissively. “No need for self deprecation.  You have plenty of opportunity to prove yourself.”

“I’m relieved beyond words to hear it.”

Brandon stood and adjusted his linen shirt. The crisp edge creeping in with the darkening evening told him he wouldn’t get away with loose fitting summer clothes much longer, but he was grateful for their cover now. “Let me know what works for you. Now get me my keys, please.”

---

Lydia’s eyes widened with a junior high-like sense of drama. “And then you left?” 

“And then I left. With the keys, of course.”  He tightened the last screw on his side of the shelving unit and rocked back on his heels. Lydia was shaking her head. 

“Amazing. And when is this little event?”

“Tomorrow night.  Get done with your side.”

“Sweetie, I’ve been done with my side. Just waiting for you.”  Together, they stood and lifted in concert to swing the wood and metal etagere upright. It was heavy, but Lydia was deceptively powerful for her compact size. Brandon rocked it into its place against the wall while Lydia stood back, thumb circling her chin in a trademarked that indicated a design epiphany.  “What’s going on this one?”

“Linens,” Brandon asked as hefted the unit on last time, bringing the back legs against the baseboard. He dusted off his hands and backed up next to her. “Throw pillows, I think.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “I like that. The more colorful objects against the white wall.”  She scooped up a bag that jingled with a remaining assortment of shelving hardware. “Toss this?”

“No way. This is one time we actually have to install the anti-topple kits. Last thing I need is for a wall of placemats to bury my first customer.”

“Smart.” She turned to face him. “So what are we going to wear?” 

Brandon scrunched his forehead and he snatched the hardware from her. “We haven’t given it much thought.”  

“Oh please, you?” She studied him as he inspected the installation directions. “Either that’s total BS or…”

He glanced up. “Or what?  Where’s the pencil?”

“By your right foot. Or you aren’t really into this guy.”  

Brandon shrugged dismissively as he continued to stare unseeingly at the paper on the floor. “Maybe I’m not.”

“Don’t do that.  What’s that saying? About cutting off your ear?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know. Don’t cut off your ear in order to…something.”

“Oh. Nose. Don’t cut off your nose to spite your face.”

“That’s it. Don’t do that.” She crouched next to him and adopted a sympathetic tone.  “Anthony’s not coming back, Boo.”  

They were interrupted by the sound of the back door swinging open. Dell bustled into the show room with various tool bags tucked under his considerable arms. 

“Got the tubing for the dehumidifier,” his voice boomed in cavernous space.  “I should have it pumping on its own in no time.”

Brandon stood, eager to escape Lydia’s pitied gaze. “That’s awesome. I can’t store anything down there until I know we can keep consistently dry.” He paused when he noticed Dell and Lydia eyeing each other. “Oh—sorry. Dell, this is Lydia. We worked together at the gallery. She actually took over my position when I left.  And Dell used to be my neighbor at the loft.”

Lydia ogled the muscles that could be seen rippling under his slightly-too-small t-shirt as he set down the bags to extend his massive hand to her.  “Hey, there Lydia!  Great to meet you.”

“You, too!  Dell? That’s an interesting name.”

He held onto her hand. “Short for Wendell. And that’s my middle name.  My first name is actually Gavin.”  

“They are both great names.” The two smiled wordlessly for a moment. Brandon’s eyes darted back and forth between them as though tracking a ping pong ball before he decided to slice through the awkward. 

“Well, thanks again for helping out with that, Dell.  Don’t know what I would have done without you.”  Brandon spoke earnestly. In the last week, Dell had toiled in the basement storeroom, adding additional lighting and building large storage cubbies for inventory.  Getting the dehumidifying system to automatically drain had been the last hurdle in making the space suitable for storing the soft goods like rugs and throws.  It was only a matter of days before the first truck would back up to the basement door and stock would be unloaded. 

The trance broken, Dell released Lydia’s hand. “No trouble at all, Brother. I’m excited to be your first discount customer.” 

Brandon chuckled. “You got it.”

“Why don’t you let me help you down there?” Lydia seemed a little overeager to run plastic tubing across a dusty basement floor. “You might need someone to hold a flashlight or something.”  

Brandon rolled his eyes and shook his head in amusement as Dell accepted her help and the two of them clomped down the stairs to the seclusion of the storeroom below.