Page 52

“Right. You’re saying love like you love blow jobs or peanut butter. It’s not special.”

“You’re wounding me, but you might be right—kind of. This instance is different.” He wasn’t getting through to Michael. Why not? Sweet and pouting had always worked for him before.

“Let’s keep riding the wave. I’ll help you with the center, but then we reassess.” Michael left the couch. “I should go.”

“You have no faith in me.” Tristan wanted to chase Michael, but his legs refused to cooperate.

“I’m being cautious.”

He wished Michael wasn’t playing it so safe. He wished Michael would open up and let him in. But he couldn’t force Michael. Not now or ever. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

Michael shrugged. “Yeah, okay.”

Maybe he had made an inroad… “Babe?”

“We’ll figure something out,” Michael said.

“Together.”

Michael nodded.

Tristan left the couch and breathed a sigh of relief. He could keep the relationship working. He’d get the story done, the house in order and the foundation for the center created. Once he had all that in the works or finished, he’d work on Michael. He had a positive feeling about him and Michael and refused to let that goodness go to waste.

* * * *

The next afternoon, Michael stood behind the desk at the library. He’d shelved everything that had been turned in and sent the inter-library loans out. For the first time that day, the library was quiet.

The bell over the door dinged and a man strolled into the building. He smiled at Michael.

“May I help you?” Michael folded his hands. “Welcome. I hope you’re having a good day. It’s sunny out, isn’t it?” He’d cocked up his delivery, but oh well. The last time a hot man had come into the library, Michael had ended up in bed with him.

The man nodded. “It’s quite nice out, thank you. I do need some help. Where are your Tristan Paulson books?”

“Are you a fan or a first-time reader?” He wasn’t sure why he’d asked that since he had no idea what order the books went in. He hadn’t read any of Tristan’s work.

“I’m a fan. I’m new to Sullavan and wanted to curl up with something familiar. My stuff hasn’t arrived yet, but I have.” He gave Michael a sly smile. “Tristan and I are tight.”

“Oh.” He wasn’t sure what that meant—they were tight? “The books are right over here.” He directed the man over to the shelf featuring Tristan’s work. “Are you looking for a specific title?”

The guy grinned and nodded to the corner. “There is a specific title. It’s calledKeep Your Hands the Hell off My Boyfriend. Heard of it?”

Michael almost blurted that the title wasn’t one of Tristan’s books, but kept his thoughts to himself. “I see.”

“I hope you do.” He glared at Michael. “I’ve been patient while he goofed off here in Sullavan. I have no desire to move here. It’s a dump, but he’s here, so I am. Now stay the fuck away from him. I’ve given him space, but I didn’t know he’d hooked up with you. So much for trust.”

Michael stood his ground, but said nothing. He didn’t understand what was happening, although he wasn’t surprised. He knew Tristan had other lovers and guessed there were a few broken hearts left in his wake, but did Tristan have a guy in New York? Still?

“Are we clear?” the man snarled.

“We are.”

“Good.” He soft-punched Michael in the arm. “I trust he won’t see you again.”

“Right.”

The man winked and brushed past Michael. Within minutes, he’d left the library.