Which was exactly why it was dangerous.
“I’m going to the store,” I announced. “To do actual work. You two can keep scrolling social media all you want.”
As I descended the stairs, I heard Maya call after me, “Don’t forget to dress cute for your second date!”
I slammed the gallery door harder than necessary, the bell jingling in protest. The crisp winter air hit my face, helping clear my head as I trudged toward the hardware store. I needed to focus on real problems—like the stack of still-unpaid invoices in my desk drawer, or the leak in the stockroom roof, or the fact that our heating bill had nearly doubled this month.
Not Adrian Hayes and his perfect face and his surprisingly genuine laugh and?—
“Maddox! Just the man I was hoping to see!”
I suppressed a groan as Evelyn Hoffman emerged from the drugstore, practically vibrating with enthusiasm. The woman had been trying to set me up for fifteen years. The fact that she now had social media ammunition was clearly too exciting for her to contain.
“Hi, Mrs. Hoffman. Kind of in a hurry?—”
“Oh, I just wanted to say how lovely that video was! Such chemistry with that handsome fellow. You know, my nephew’s coming to visit next week, but perhaps I should cancel since you and Adrian seem so?—”
“We don’t seem anything,” I cut her off, probably more sharply than the sweet woman deserved. “It’s a business arrangement. That’s all.” I didn’t remind her that she’d already forced poor Nelson and me into a date together, and it had been a complete disaster. In addition to being a “menswear specialist” at a department store—his words, not mine—he was also a lighting designer for a theater over in Spokane and felt that my career and I would benefit tremendously from his lighting expertise.
I had not-so-politely disagreed.
“Sorry to run off,” I said, waving toward the hardware store as if gesturing to someone very important inside. “Have a great day, Mrs. Hoffman!”
As I entered the store, I breathed in the familiar scent of sawdust and metal. The morning light streamed through the front windows, catching the Christmas display Dad had meticulously arranged every year. Now, Maya did most of the decorating while I handled inventory and bills.
I headed back to my office, determined to focus on actual work instead of viral videos and meddling townspeople. The bills wouldn’t pay themselves, no matter how many views Adrian’s post got.
My hand brushed against something soft as I reached for the paperwork—Dad’s old Nordique sweater, carefully folded in the corner of the drawer. I consistently forgot I’d stashed it there after finding it draped over Dad’s office chair in the weeks after his death, and every time I “found” it again was a bittersweet reminder. The wool was still impossibly soft, the cable-knit pattern intricate and beautiful despite its age.
“Your grandfather gave me this the day I took over the store,” Dad had told me once. “Said a Sullivan man needed a proper sweater for Montana winters.”
I ran my fingers over the soft knit, remembering Adrian’s genuine surprise when I’d touched his sweater yesterday. The way his blue eyes had widened, how his practiced smile had softened, that crooked canine had emerged, and it had turned into something real.
My phone buzzed again in my pocket.
Adrian
Not to push, but the tree farm would be perfect for showing off Nordique’s new winter collection. And since you already know the equipment…
My hands shook with nerves that I would cave and agree to anything he asked. It was tempting to take everyone’s advice. To live a little. But I knew myself better than they did.
I didn’t do casual very well. Especially not with someone who… sparked… with me the way Adrian did.
Just find another date! I thought you had your Grindr app primed for this.
Adrian
I’m trying! But someone told me not to bother finding my own dates, remember? Wasn’t that Rule 1? And you have to admit we had good chemistry.
I stared at his message, fingers hovering over the screen. Because he wasn’t wrong—we did have chemistry. The kind that made my chest tight and my skin warm. The kind that was hazardous for someone who couldn’t afford distractions.
The kind that made me want things I couldn’t have.
I shoved the phone back in my pocket without responding, but the damage was done. Now, all I could think about was Adrian Hayes in a pine forest, snowflakes catching in his perfect hair, that genuine laugh echoing between the trees…
“Fuck,” I muttered, dropping into my chair. “Get it together, Sullivan.”
But even as I tried to focus on the invoices, I couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow, in less than forty-eight hours, Adrian Hayes had managed to get under my skin in a way no one had in years.
