He rose as well, extending his hand. “Looking forward to it.”
I shook it briefly, ignoring the solid warmth of his grip, and let go. “Don’t make me regret this, Hayes.”
“I won’t,” he promised, eyes bright with something that looked dangerously like smug satisfaction. “This is going to be great.”
Despite all my misgivings, I couldn’t deny the spark of excitement I felt. Yes, I needed the money. Yes, Maya would be insufferable when she found out I’d changed my mind. But there was something else, too—a professional curiosity about what it would be like to step outside my comfort zone, to have my work seen by more than just the regular Legacy crowd. Maybe, just maybe, this project could be a bridge to something bigger—not just for Adrian, but for me.
As I headed for the door, Alex waved me over to the bar.
“New friend?” he asked, mixing something that smelled of citrus and lime.
“New client,” I corrected. “Short-term project.”
Alex raised an eyebrow. “The guy’s practically glowing. You sure that’s all it is?”
I glanced back at Adrian, who was now on his phone, probably updating his agent or sponsor. “Positive. In fact… I need a favor.”
After pinning a reluctant Alex down as my first video date victim, my phone buzzed with a text from my sister.
Maya
Well? How’d it go?
I typed back quickly.
I said yes. Don’t be an asshole.
Her response came immediately.
Maya
Did you know champagne consumption at New Year’s weddings nearly doubles that of weddings on any other night? So maybe a Valentine’s wedding would be more practical…
I pocketed my phone without replying, already mentally cataloging equipment I’d need for tomorrow. One thing was certain—working with Adrian Hayes would be anything but boring.
Whether that was good or bad remained to be seen.
#ADozenGayMen #SacrificialCityBoy #TwelveDatesOfTorture #ThisBetterBeWorthIt
3
#SEVENAMSHOWDOWN
ADRIAN
Seven in themorning in Montana was an entirely different beast than seven in the morning in Los Angeles. I figured that was, at least in part, because it was so cold.
I was used to LA, where the city would already be humming—delivery trucks rumbling, coffee shops churning out espressos, the subways and busses packed with exhausted commuters. I’d always been a morning person, a trait that had served me well in capturing that perfect morning golden hour content when most influencers were still asleep.
But in Legacy, 7:00 a.m. meant crystalline air that hurt to breathe, a sky still clinging to the last stars, and silence so profound it felt like the world was holding its breath.
As I trudged from my rental car toward the Pinecone Café, each footstep crunching in the fresh dusting of snow, I revised my assessment. It wasn’t just cold here; it was cold asfuck.
The kind of cold that didn’t just nip at your exposed skin but seemed to seep right through designer wool and find every vulnerable spot.
The kind of cold that made a man seriously question his life choices.
Not just agreeing to meet at this ungodly hour—though that was certainly part of it—but the entire concept. “Twelve Dates of Christmas” had seemed brilliant yesterday. This morning, with my face stinging and my rental cabin’s unfamiliar coffee still not hitting my system, the project felt as precarious as my overpriced boots on the icy sidewalk.
