Page 42 of Catching Kyle (Football Heartthrobs #1)

I glance at Kyle, judging his reaction. He doesn’t seem bothered by what his mom is saying at all.

“And that sounds like a great idea,” she says. “See Martha and Llewellyn before they skedaddle tomorrow.”

“I would like to get some writing done,” I add, glancing back at my bag. “Could I do that there?”

“Right,” she says, pouring the sugar into a bowl. “Kyle said you were a writer.”

“I guess so,” I say, shrugging.

Kyle puts his hand on my shoulder, sending warmth down my torso. He squeezes it. “Kyle’s not just any writer. His stuff is good.”

“You better send me something when it’s done,” she says. “You write romance?”

“Fantasy romance,” I say, feeling shy like a little kid when all the attention’s on him.

“Oh! Even better.”

“I’m trying to find an agent now,” I say. “Fingers crossed.”

“You’re in my prayers,” she says, smiling at me through her reading glasses.

“Let’s go check it out,” Kyle says.

We get in his rental car, and he takes me down up the road, through some dense trees, to their town center.

In the center, they have a municipal building all surrounded by shops I don’t recognize.

Ma and Pa shops, likely. Catty-cornered to the center is a large diner, and across from that I spot our destination: The Book Corner.

“This is where I read that Cat Sebastian book,” he says as we park. “The one that helped me see I was gay.”

“No way,” I say as we get out.

When we enter the store, I take a deep breath, and I feel at home.

All bookstores—Barnes & Noble to your used bookstore—have that distinct smell.

It makes me want to sit down and read, write, and talk to other book enthusiasts.

It inspires me honestly, making me feel like I could do anything I wanted. And that includes getting an agent.

I peruse the shelves, awed by how large their collection is despite being in such a small town.

“Welcome in,” a woman says. She’s black with her hair tied in a bandana above her head.

“Llewellyn, right?” Kyle says.

She nods. Then her eyes widen. “Oh my gosh,” she says, her accent coming out. I love the way people sound here. “You’re Kyle Weaver.”

He shrugs with a smile. “The one and only.”

“Silas told me you visited the other day, but I didn’t—my goodness. Martha!”

A redheaded woman at the counter looks up. Then her jaw drops. “Sweet Jesus, he’s back!”

She rushes from behind the counter and greets us. “Sorry,” the redheaded woman—Martha—says. “I know you were here a few months ago, but I couldn’t believe it. When I checked out that book for you, I nearly—”

“It’s okay,” Kyle says with a laugh. “I’m glad to be back.”

“And I’m so glad you stopped by before we got outta town,” she says. “How’s your mama?”

“Good as can be.”

Martha turns to me. “And who’s this handsome man?”

I blush. “I’m Michael,” I say. I glance at Kyle. How should I introduce myself? Friend? Boyfriend?

“He’s visiting from Portland,” he says.

“Very cool,” Martha says. “Well, make yourselves at home.”

“Can I get you guys anything from the café?” Llewellyn asks.

I suck on my lip. He didn’t say boyfriend. But not friend, either.

Kyle looks at me. “You want an apple cider?”

“Yes” I say. “Sounds heavenly.”

“If I don’t see you again,” Martha says as Llewellyn heads to the café. “You all have a wonderful Thanksgiving. And thank you for taking Silas in. It really means a lot to him.”

“You probably know my ma by now,” he says. “She’d take care of the whole world if she could.”

“That’s right,” Martha says. “You boys enjoy.”

“Alright,” Kyle says, a grin on his face. He seems so natural here.

I sit down at one of the café tables and take out my laptop.

“I’m gonna look around,” he says. “I’ll find something to read and join you.”

I nod to him and crack my computer open. As it’s booting up, I watch as Martha and Llewellyn giggle behind the café counter. Llewellyn says something I can’t hear, and Martha grins and kisses her on the cheek. Warmth tickles my chest.

I didn’t know such a place existed, in Mississippi of all places.

It’s giving me inspiration to how we could be more inclusive to queer folks up at Ruckers.

And to think that this is where Kyle considers home.

For months, I’ve been afraid he’s too afraid to accept me.

But being here makes me think he clearly does.

I start writing while Kyle checks out a book.

I open up to a scene that has been giving me grief for days.

I try to write every day, but in the past week I’ve only gotten a few words in.

I just can’t seem to figure out the chemistry between the two gay magicians in my new work-in-progress.

Is it grumpy-sunshine? Or second chance? Nothing feels right.

Our ciders are ready, and Kyle picks them on his stroll back. He hands me my drink.

“Thanks,” I say. I blow on my drink. “What did you get?”

“Cat Sebastian’s other mid-century book,” he says. “Silas had a note written by it that it was just as good as the baseball one. ”

“Then it must be wonderful,” I say.

He nods and sets the book down. He’s laying back with the drink in his hand, his arms crossed, making his biceps, triceps, and chest bulge.

The title of his book is We Could Be So Good , and I can’t help but disagree.

Kyle and I are good—it’s not a hypothetical.

So why am I thinking about ending this at all?

“How’s the writing going?” he asks, taking a sip.

“It’s not,” I say with a sigh. “Can’t figure out the dynamic between my love interests, which is like the entire point of a romance novel.”

He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I’m sorry, babe. But I know you’ll get it. I’ve read plenty of you’re writing. You know how to write connection well. It might be hard now, but you’ll get there.”

My chest swells. “You think?”

“I know ,” he says, nodding. “Plus, I feel so connected to you. That could count for something, right? As inspiration?”

I could swoon so hard that I fall off this chair. Where has this Kyle been? This is the man that I like— love .

“I love you,” I say.

“I love you, too,” he says.

I take a sip of my apple cider, then sigh, contented. “Now to writing.”

He reaches over and pats me on the arm. “You got this.”

He starts reading, and I start writing.

I start writing.

Holy shit. Of course. They’re not grumpy sunshine or second chance.

They’re unlikely lovers. Just like me and Kyle.

One’s a magician trained in the order, the other orphaned and destitute.

Yes. And as the experienced one trains the other one, they grow closer, similar to my first book. That’s exactly it.

The inspiration has been in front of me this whole time. Literally. It’s Kyle.

I get into that flow state where all I can think about are the words coming out of my fingertips, the kind that makes anyone with writers block jealous.

This is why I decided against emotionally unavailable men when I broke up with David years ago. I could never conjure up such intimacy if I was busy trying to win the attention of a man who didn’t or couldn’t love me. But now it’s easy, and I think I know why…

I’m in love with someone who’s actually emotionally available.

In what feels like a blink of an eye, Martha announces that the store will close in fifteen minutes.

“Already?” I ask, looking around. Besides a few customers at the checkout counter, we’re alone.

“Yeah,” Kyle says, rubbing his eyes. “How is Cat Sebastian so good?”

I glance over my computer and see he’s already halfway through. “ That good, huh?”

He shakes his head. “It’s like she can read my mind.” He checks his phone. “Shit, Mom’s called three times.”

“That’s not good,” I say, closing my computer. “We should head back. Sorry, I got lost in the flow.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says as we start making our way out. “Probably just telling us about dinner.”

When we get back to Linda’s, the house smells like chicken and vanilla, which is a surprisingly appetizing smell. She’s on the couch in her pajamas. She’s reading her kindle, and Miss Beautiful is curled up beside her.

“Was hoping you boys would eat with me,” she says. “But figured y’all were busy. And I was hungry.”

“Sorry, ma,” Kyle says, shutting the door. “We’ll clean up.”

“That would be darling, thanks,” she says.

“Why don’t you go eat?” Kyle says. “I’ll get your bed set up in the guest room.”

Your bed.

Was everything I experienced just a lie? He can be my sweet boyfriend, but when it comes down to it, he’ll sleep in a different bed?

“Oh,” Linda says, slapping her forehead. “I forgot.” She reaches over to her side table and picks up a small key chain. “Here,” she says, handing it to Kyle.

“I wanted you boys to be comfortable while you were here,” she says. “So I got you a cabin down by the lake. ”

“A cabin?” Kyle and I ask in unison.

“Yes, a cabin,” she says like we didn’t hear her. “Glamour Springs has a tradition of putting a little show on the water on Thanksgiving evening. Wanted to give you boys a front row.”

Butterflies flutter in my stomach. Now that sounds romantic.

I steal a glance at Kyle. He’s chewing on his lips, and I can practically hear the cogs turning in his brain. Is he upset? Angry? Sad?“Thanks, ma,” he says, almost sounding relieved. He takes the keys from her.

She looks up and pats his arm, and there’s more love and knowledge in that gesture than meets the eye.

She knows, and she wants the best for us.

He looks at our luggage, then at me. “Let’s eat, then make our way over.”

“Perfect,” I say.