Page 55

GLAD I WORE UNDERWEAR

Bobby: Are you flexing?

Chris: Am I trying too hard?

Bobby: I’m holding out for the nudes.

Chris: Never going to happen.

Bobby: Sad face.

Chris: If you want to see me naked, you’ll do it in person.

Bobby: Why are you so mean to your boyfriend?

Chris: If you’re going to call me boyfriend, you’ll have to put in the work.

Bobby: 7:00PM. Meet you at the park.

I checked my watch. Three minutes to spare. He had refused to answer any of my questions. Where were we going? How should I dress? Would we be handling chainsaws? Bobby responded to each question with an emoji. I hadn’t realized I was dating a jokester.

“You’re looking handsome.”

I spun around to see Bobby standing under a streetlight. He had traded his overalls for a pair of jeans and a t-shirt just short enough that I could spot some belly. I wanted to touch it, but more than that, I wanted to find out if pants meant underwear.

I hoped the answer was no.

A couple walked past on the sidewalk, giving us a curious glance.

If they wanted to watch, it felt appropriate to put on a show…

for appearances. I wrapped an arm around his back and pulled him in close.

I kissed him, and when I didn’t pull back, he put his arms around my shoulders. No, this wouldn’t be a chaste kiss.

I wanted to spend the night like this—holding him, tasting his lips, the sensation of his tongue brushing against mine. His beard smelled of bourbon and citrus. Whatever he used in the shower, I wholeheartedly approved. When he pulled away, I wanted to forget the date and invite him home.

“Ready for date night?”

Fine, I could get him naked later. “What fine establishment are we attending this evening?”

“Firefly’s finest, of course.” He gestured to a building on the far side of the hardware store.

I wasn’t sure if it housed a restaurant or a bar, but the people of Firefly were filing inside like it was a trendy pop-up in Manhattan.

What, in a small town, received such a big reception?

Bobby had been right to keep it a secret. My curiosity had been piqued.

“You’re about to have the best spaghetti west of Main Street.”

American Legion, Bernard Jones Post #92. Bobby opened the door with a sweeping bow. The chattering from locals filled the space. There were a few curious glances in our direction, but to the people of Firefly, I was just another person. When Bobby held my hand, that got a few raised eyebrows.

I leaned toward Bobby, speaking out of the side of my mouth, “What is this?”

“You’ve never been to a community spaghetti dinner?” I waited for the jab at being a city boy. “It’s a tradition. Whenever we need to raise funds to help out somebody, we have a communal meal.”

Oh. That was rather sweet. Instead of racing to the internet and starting an online fundraiser, they used it as an opportunity to come together.

If this were a date night in New York, it'd be a new pop-up restaurant or drinks at the club.

We'd be trying to find quiet moments in a city packed to the brim with people. I think I preferred this.

“What’s this one for?”

“Harvey.”

“Is he okay?” Yes, I worried. Of all the townspeople I had met, Harvey and Walter had left an impression.

“He’s fine. His pup needs surgery.”

“So, we’re here to benefit animal surgery?”

“You sound shocked.”

I shook my head. “No. It’s more… you all would use any reason to do this, wouldn’t you?”

Instead of answering, he smiled, pulling me along.

Rows of tables lined the left and right, creating a farm-table-style dining experience.

I gave a slight wave to Rose and Edward.

Gladys held up her hands in the shape of a heart.

I even spotted Abraham and Laurel talking across the room.

The entire town came together for Harvey…

the warmth of Firefly’s people had broken through my armor.

“Oh, and I can’t forget the auction,” Bobby said.

The front of the Legion had a counter with a stack of plastic plates. In the kitchen, Dorothy stirred a giant pot of spaghetti sauce while Harvey passed the plates to patrons. While we waited our turn, I eyed the table of donations.

One table of auction items summed up Firefly.

There were bouquets of flowers, jarred honey, homemade soaps, and gift certificates to Simon’s bistro.

The town had craftsmen of all kinds, all willing to pitch in to help one of their own.

Hidden behind a basket of fresh vegetables, I discovered a disc cut from a tree.

Burned on the surface was a cute house above the phrase, “Home Is Where the Heart Is.” I didn’t need to read the notecard to know the creator.

I reached for Bobby’s hand, giving it a squeeze. I kept calling him a mountain man, but underneath the burly exterior, Bobby hid a squishy cinnamon roll center. He glanced over his shoulder, but the line moved before he could comment.

“If it isn’t Firefly’s power couple.”

“Hi, Harvey.” We shook hands. “Sorry to hear about the pup.”

He shook his head. “Stella has been my life since Violet passed. She’ll get through it.”

Bobby pulled out his wallet and stuffed some money in the mason jar.

They didn’t have a set price. Plates were by donation only, and still, it flowed with money.

I didn’t care about the cost. I pulled out a hundred-dollar bill and stuffed it into the jar.

When I looked up, Harvey mouthed a silent “thank you” before handing us our plates.

“Ready for that family dinner?”

Abraham waved us over. “Looks like I don’t have a choice.”

Did the thought of sitting with his sister and dad make me nervous? While I didn’t know what questions they’d throw our way, I wanted to see Bobby interacting with his family. Curiosity outweighed my nerves. If the conversation got tense, I could always talk with Laurel about the play.

“I’m ready.”

“Just be your charming self,” he said. “It seems to be working on everybody.” He pointed at Gloria, who waved frantically.

“Including me.” He flashed me a smile. Okay, now I was less nervous about impressing his family and more so about leaving a good impression on him.

Even I was surprised at my need for approval.

“This doesn’t count for dinner night,” Abraham said.

“Dad, leave the man alone.”

“Thanks, Laurel.” I flashed a smile at Abraham. “I’m expecting an excellent home-cooked meal.”

Laurel laughed. “After eating Rose’s food, you’re going to be disappointed. Dad’s only a grill master because he chases people away.”

Bobby snickered. “Remember when he tried to make a deep-fried turkey?”

“Hey, no double-teaming.”

I hadn’t heard Laurel laugh during practice. The stress of the show didn’t follow her, and that made me happy. I needed to know about this turkey situation. “What happened?”

“Fire. So. Much. Fire.” She and Bobby laughed, and when Abraham’s brow furrowed, it only made them laugh harder.

“Last time I try a recipe from the internet.” Abraham tried to keep a straight face, but even he cracked a smile. “We resorted to venison steaks, and damn, they were good.”

Everybody turned silent as they dove in, slurping spaghetti. It was okay—not great—at least until I had my first meatball. I had been to four-star restaurants that didn’t come close to this. Slowing my pace wasn’t an option. I didn’t earn my gut by being a cautious eater.

Covering my mouth as I turned to Bobby’s sister. “Laurel, where’s Will?”

She had a meatball ready for devouring. “He’s working on the school paper. He’s convinced he has a story that will get him an internship. I wish I had been that driven as a kid.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have had to ground you for your report card.” Bobby snickered until Abraham eyed him. “At least hers was for grades. Why did you get grounded, Robert?”

Everybody grew silent. Had we stumbled into a dark family secret? Did Bobby have a dark history? What trouble could he possibly get into? Did he partake in cow tipping? I read somewhere that was a thing.

Bobby’s shoulders straightened. “It was worth sneaking out. Jimmy was such a great kisser.”

“Ew,” Laurel said. “I still can’t believe you made out with my crush.”

I snorted. “Bobby, you bad boy.”

“Next rehearsal, I’ll tell you about the time we had to pick him up from the emergency room for setting off fireworks.”

“I forbid you all from telling stories.”

“Sure, that’ll happen,” Abraham shot me a smile. “Wait till you see the photo albums.”

“No. No. No.” If Bobby's head shook any harder, it'd come unscrewed.

In the past, meeting the family meant being on my best behavior.

I arrived as the most polished version of myself, fearful I’d say the wrong thing or somehow embarrass myself.

The Wright family didn’t care about appearances.

There were no pretenses, just a playful sense of closeness.

The circumstances might have been awkward, but hearing his dad and sister trade stories, they invited me in without question.

I reached under the table, resting a hand on Bobby’s thigh.

We had gone from hot and heavy to him doing me a favor.

I tried writing it off as a friendly gesture where we’d play our roles.

Was it the way he smiled, the come-as-you-are attitude, or the mischievous smile, but something had changed?

I had changed. Somewhere along the way, I asked “what if,” and now I wanted to find the answer.

Had I caught a case of the feels?

“I can’t eat another bite,” Bobby said.

“You said that two bites ago,” I replied.

“I swear he has a second stomach,” Laurel added.

“How else am I going to maintain this beach body?” Bobby took a quiet bite from a meatball. “Before you ask, no, we don’t have beaches.”