Page 2

WELCOME TO FIREFLY VALLEY

“This is depressing.”

I stared at the e-invite for the convention.

We only had ninety-eight reservations, and most of them were locals.

I didn’t have any idea what to expect. I had hoped it’d be one of those ‘build it and they will come’ events.

It was better than nothing, but the knot in the pit of my stomach didn’t agree.

Running my fingers along the nails embedded into the counter, I turned my attention to how far the town had come. Once known for their paper mills, they had turned the empty buildings into storefronts.

Anywhere else, it’d be a modern industrial aesthetic, but in Firefly Valley, it spoke to our history. Seeing our town falling into disrepair, they started a revitalization project. Their determination and refusal to fade into oblivion bordered on inspirational.

My shop had the original walls, with exposed beams and concrete floors.

The counter at the front had been made with a reclaimed door and had more dents and dings than my truck.

I tried to keep the character of the mill that once employed my father and his father before him.

I think that’s part of why Mom supported the endeavor.

In my own way, I carried on the family legacy.

I turned back to my laptop and scanned through my social media.

Amanda hadn’t released the video, but she swore it’d make waves.

I couldn’t let that be our only marketing.

For the last two hours, I sent emails to the newspaper, TV channel, and even our local radio station. I’d hound them until they responded.

When the front door opened, I didn’t look up from my laptop. I refreshed my email again, hoping somebody would respond to my pleas for media coverage. After the third click, I gave up. There was plenty of work that needed to get done, fliers to hang, comics to pull for customers, and…

None of it mattered when I spotted him .

Where I expected an awkward teenager stood the broad shoulders of a man.

When he leaned over a long box, flipping through comics, I couldn’t help but gawk at the curves and how they flowed into the ass of tight-fitting jeans.

From this angle, I couldn’t see his face, but as I flipped through my Rolodex of local asses, none were close to this perfect creature.

Would it be awkward if I interrupted his browsing to make suggestions? I owned the store. That’d be natural as long as I didn’t reach down and see if those buns were as firm as I hoped. I didn’t trust myself, not when this bear thumbed through old issues of Defenders of Earth .

He reached up to pull a new comic from the wall, and I caught sight of the hairy arms covered in tattoos.

I fought back a gasp. Had the universe taken pity on me and manifested a fantasy?

He turned his head, and I realized I had a bona fide daddy bear, complete with beard browsing comics.

It was Christmas, and I had been a good boy… a very good boy.

He headed toward me with a stack of comics in hand. I tried looking busy and knocked a coffee cup full of pens off the counter. I reached for the fliers to keep my hands busy, sending them flying. The man caught the papers and set them down.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey.” The desire to touch those thick forearms was implied.

“Can I get these?”

There were nearly twenty comics. Normally, I could read a person based on their purchases. He had a mixture of science fiction, superheroes, and a few comics with more scantily clad women than plot. I surveyed his haul.

“You have a pretty eclectic selection going on.”

“Oh, they’re not for me.”

I wanted him to say they were for his boyfriend, no, ex-boyfriend. They had broken up but stayed close friends. The narrative wrote itself. I imagined they spent their Thursday nights watching new episodes of Galaxy Cadets and then switching channels to a drag show.

“They’re for my son.”

It didn’t compute at first. My daddy bear couldn’t really… “Oh, you have a son?” My brain realigned, realizing I had a straight man in front of me. This burly, fluffy man with a growing patch of white in his beard wasn’t a daddy, just a dad. Everywhere bears wept.

“He’s eight. He’s a reluctant reader and?—”

“You’re hoping comics will do the trick. Got it.”

He nodded. I reached for the stack and started splitting it into two piles.

“Let me give you a hand here. Murder! Murder! Murder! is not for an eight-year-old. We should skip Vixens unless you want him to find out where space babies come from. And there is no way you’re giving him Castles and Dragons . ”

“How can that be bad?”

“Ever hear the phrase, anthropomorphic penis?”

He grew cuter as he blushed. I continued separating out the comics. On the wall behind me, I snatched a couple of issues. “These are good. The art is a little flashier, but the dialogue is on grade level. The superheroes are solid role models in these.”

He rubbed his beard, eyes wide. “This is out of my comfort zone. I haven’t read comics since Nana bought me the funnies back in the day.”

“Funnies? You don’t look sixty.” I gave him a wink. Straight or not, I’d flirt until he ran screaming from the store.

Red cheeks again. Did daddy bear enjoy the attention?

“We started reading some fantasy books together. He wasn’t a fan. Too many words, he said.”

The image of him with his son reading the books only made him sexier. I had never been serious enough with a guy to consider children. If the man was this handsome, I’d consider. I’m sure my mom’s grandmother instincts went off just thinking about it.

“We’re new… to Firefly, that is.”

That explained why I didn’t know his name, lineage, and every dirty secret. Small towns had boundary issues. It’d only be a matter of days before the ladies at the market gossiped about his arrival.

“I’m Jason.” I held my hand out.

His paw of a hand gripped mine, and my knees almost buckled. A big guy with muscle under his fluff sent my heart aflutter. “I’m Simon. Thanks for helping me step up my dad game.”

I held on long enough, it should have gotten awkward. We were in a game of chicken to see who would let go first. Surprise, Simon. I could do this all day long. How weird would it be if I touched his beard?

Simon glanced down at our hands and then at my face. The corner of his lip turned up in a smirk. Wait. Not only did he call my bluff, but I think he meant to raise the stakes. When his thumb ran along the top of my knuckles, I had enough evidence.

I said nothing as I glanced at the door to my office. 100% innocent. I didn’t have any ulterior— Simon’s head tipped in that direction as well. This is not how I imagined my day going. I wouldn’t say no to the sexiest man to ever walk in my store.

“Amanda!” I shouted. “I’m going to need you to watch the store.”

As soon as I locked the door to my office, Simon eliminated the space between us.

I didn’t have time to fantasize about where this would go.

His hand held the side of my neck as he swooped in for a kiss.

I nearly melted as his lips pressed against mine.

He smelled of sandalwood and tasted like dark roast coffee.

With a step closer, his belly pushed me against a stack of boxes.

As they tumbled, I broke our kiss, catching them just in time.

My office was nothing more than a glorified broom closet filled with comics and collectibles.

While I had an exhibitionist streak, the staring eyes of action figures gave me performance anxiety.

I took Simon’s hand and carefully stepped over white boxes, and shuffled through the room to another door.

I flicked back the deadbolt and swung the door open.

We left the shop and entered the old mill.

Large enough to house a football field, it was all but abandoned.

Of all the shops on our street, I was the only one with direct access to the mill.

We wouldn’t be disturbed or have to worry about being buried under an avalanche of comics.

“Wow.” Simon froze at the enormity of the space. Where the giant equipment had once sat stood empty concrete slabs. Crisscrossing iron beams lent themselves to the industrial aesthetic. The far wall had windows reaching up to the third story, all with a beautiful view of the river.

Simon didn’t speak as he hooked a finger in the loops on my jeans.

With a tug, we resumed our kiss. When his hand slid under my shirt, brushing the hair along my belly, I questioned if he’d stop with foreplay.

It wasn’t my first time with a heteroflexible man.

I’d let him set the pace and follow his lead.

If he kept kissing like I was the last lips on Earth, he could ride me however he wanted.

It had been months since I made out with another man, longer since naked, sexy times. Never had one come into my store and hit on me. Options were limited in a small town. Having grown up here, the locals were more like cousins than potential mates.

When Simon’s fingers fumbled with the button on my jeans, I almost cheered.

The zipper wasn’t halfway down when he shoved a hand in my underwear.

Pinning me against the wall, he kissed my neck while he cupped my package.

I’d gladly let this handsome man experiment with his sexuality, especially if it involved my cock.

He stepped back long enough to pull the front of his t-shirt behind his head.

The ink-covered forearms hadn’t prepared me.

He’d be the belle of the ball at the gay bar’s Bear Night.

I ran my fingers down his chest, following a white streak resembling a lightning bolt.

When I reached his belly, he let out a chuckle and grabbed my wrists.

“Ticklish,” he whispered.