The Closer You Get (Fidelity #1)

by Carter Ashby

  She turned and smiled indulgently at him. “Men respect a married woman more. Most everybody knows I’m not. But they call me Mrs. anyway, and it sends them a subconscious cue to treat me with respect.”

  “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “Well, you’re a man. You don’t have to worry about your image.”

  “I’m a gay man. I have plenty of image issues to worry about.”

  Cora sighed and rolled her eyes.

  “Hey!” Adam sat up straighter. “Rye, now that you know she’s single, wanna go out with her? We could double date or something.”

  “I am not dating you,” Cash spoke up.

  “Really? Still?”

  Cash nodded and hid a grin behind his beer. Adam wasn’t worried. He was definitely getting in those pants. It was only a matter of when.

  Lyssa brought out their pizzas and hurried back to the kitchen. Everyone started eating, but Rye locked eyes with Cora again. “You wanna go out with me, boss?” he asked, still expressionless.

  “No,” she said dispassionately.

  He leaned back and cocked his head, assessing her. “I think you do.”

  She flipped him her middle finger, and it produced the opposite effect than it should have. Rye broke into a grin.

  “Now you’ve gone and won his heart, Mrs. McKay,” Cash said.

  “That was not my intention.”

  Still, Rye’s eyes were locked on hers, and Adam couldn’t tell whether it was a good kind of look or a bad one. So he turned to Cash. “Where are you guys living?”

  “The apartments over on Faith Street. What the hell kind of name is Faith street, anyway?”

  “I don’t know,” Adam said. “I guess whoever built this town was some kind of pious, virtuous person. Because the streets all have names like that. There’s a Love Street. Patience street.”

  “Courage, Honesty, Humility…” Franny supplied.

  “Frugality,” Cora said.

  “Frugality?” Adam laughed. “Where’s that?”

  “Branches off Temperance Street up where my parents live.”

  “So rich people live on Frugality Street? That’s hilarious.”

  Cora hitched her shoulder. “They drink a lot of wine on Temperance Street, too. The irony cup runneth over.”

  “So do you have any problems here?” Cash asked.

  Adam looked over and realized Cash was talking to him. “What kind of problems?”

  “Well…you’re gay. In a small town. But on top of that, it’s a small town that somehow saw fit to name itself after all these virtues. Seems like folks around here are pretty religious. Saw about three Jesus billboards on the interstate just before exiting. So…do you have any problems living here?”

  Adam shrugged. “Not for the most part. I grew up here, however. And I don’t wear diamond studded sunglasses and feather boas, so that helps. There’s not a lot of tolerance here for the strange and different, but I think mostly people don’t care about your personal life as long as it stays personal. And I’m one of only two lawyers in the area, so people have to do business with me, just from lack of options.”

  “They would anyway, ‘cause you’re a doll,” Franny said. “I think most folks here are kind of split in two. They talk religious, but on the inside, they’re a lot more tolerant and accepting. My mom’s one of those super conservative people, and she’ll nod and amen when the preacher’s up there condemning homosexuality…but then she’s got no problem taking chicken soup to Adam when he’s sick.”

  Adam smiled. “That was real nice of her, by the way. Did she get my thank you card?”

  “She did,” Franny replied.

  Cash seemed to be listening with interest, but Rye was the one who spoke up. “So how do you meet guys?” He glanced at Cash. “When fate doesn’t throw you into car wrecks with them?”

  Adam laughed. “Um, it’s kind of slim pickings. There’s a couple of gay bars down in Fayetteville, so everyone in these outlying towns goes there to hang out. And you know, everyone knows someone they wanna fix you up with. But yeah, there aren’t a ton of options. Even fewer if you wanna be in an actual relationship.”

  Franny glanced back at the kitchen. “You ever wonder if Sully’s gay?” she asked.

  “All the time,” Adam sighed.

  “I’ll ask him,” Cash said.

  “Not necessary. I’ve got dibs on you.”

  Cash laughed and shook his head.

  “Hey, Sully!” Franny shouted. “Are you gay?”

  He didn’t even turn around. His response was to reach over and turn up the radio. Franny shrugged. “Weird guy.”

  “Hey, if we’re done eating, we should go to Darcy’s,” Adam said. It was Friday night, after all, and he needed more time to get Cash warmed up.

  Franny nodded agreement. Cash and Rye looked at each other and shrugged. Cora slid her chair back. “I think I’m gonna crash early,” she said.

  “Nope. You’re coming with us. Come on.” He kept hold of her arm until he was sure that she wasn’t backing out. He managed to talk Cash into riding with him, which made him wish the drive was more than eight minutes.

  “I’m not going home with you tonight,” Cash said, on the way to the bar.

  “We’ll see,” Adam said, grinning.

  “I’m dead serious.”

  Adam glanced over and saw that he was, indeed, dead serious. But he smiled anyway. “That’s okay. I can wait until tomorrow night.”

  Cash chuckled and watched out the window as the town disappeared, and the trees thickened.

  Rye drove on his own since Cash had stupidly got into Adam’s car. He detoured by his apartment to change his shirt, but he hurried, not wanting Cash to be alone with strangers any longer than necessary. His baby brother was over thirty and could handle himself in a fight, but something in Cash brought out the mother hen in Rye.

  The bar was out of town, off the highway, and in the woods. Rye was tense all over at the thought of getting trapped out there with a bunch of backwoods brawlers and beaten to death in the parking lot. He pushed his fear to the side, but it was like a dark cloud always hovering nearby.

  The bar looked much like a cabin on the outside. It was a cool, early summer night, and the doors and windows were open, spilling out light against the darkening sky and a wash of twangy jukebox music. Rye followed everyone else inside. It was bigger than it looked on the outside. The bar sat against the back wall and off to the side was a door to a kitchen. To the left were a dance floor and a small, raised area for live music. There was a band setting up. The rest of the area was tables and chairs, largely filled with customers, and pool tables in the back. There was one pool table empty, and Rye moved to it without hesitating.

  He turned to the wall to grab a cue. When he turned back to the table, Cora was there, racking the balls. He looked around and saw Franny had hooked up with a man and was headed to the dance floor. There were a few fine looking women scattered about the bar he might consider hitting on later, when he could get away from Cora.

  “That one’s married,” she said. She wasn’t looking at him but at the woman he’d been leering at. His eyes slid of their own volition to the brunette at the bar sipping an appletini. “She’s divorced twice, got two kids. But she’s available. Be forewarned, though, she doesn’t shake off easy.”

  He glanced at Cora and then picked out another brunette who was dancing with a group of women. He nodded toward her. “The tall one,” he said.

  Cora sighed. “All I know is her name’s Tammy, and she just graduated high school last year.”

  He leaned forward to see better. “She looks older than that. Hm. Glad I asked.” He turned, placed the cue ball. “Eight-ball?”

  “Sure,” she said.

  “Break?”

  “Go ahead.”

  Normally, he was a ladies-first kind of guy, but Cora wasn’t a lady; she was his boss. So he leaned down, aimed his cue, and broke. The balls scattered with a r
esounding crack, followed by the thuds of three pocketed balls. He took out two more striped balls before his turn ended. Cora leaned forward and expertly picked off three solids before missing on her fourth try.

  They wound up playing three games. He won the first; she won the second and the third. He kind of let her have the third. For some reason, he didn’t want her to feel bad, even though she was just as good as he was. Maybe it was his way of sucking up to the boss. They didn’t talk much other than to call shots. It gave him plenty of time to keep his eye on Cash and Adam, who were sitting at a cozy table in the corner chatting and laughing.

  “Are you done?” Cora asked after the third game.

  “I think so. Can I buy you a beer?”

  “You can buy yourself a beer while I buy myself a beer.”

  He shrugged and followed her up to the bar. They sat and drank and listened to the band, which was somewhere between bluegrass and rock and not too bad to listen to. Rye frequently looked over his shoulder at his brother.

  “Do you like Adam?” she asked.

  He frowned at her. “I’m not gay.”

  She laughed. It transfigured her expression. Cute dimples, sparkling brown eyes. Wow. “Obviously you’re not gay. I mean do you like him for your brother?”

  Rye glanced back. Still no physical contact, but the two men seemed to have moved closer together. “Don’t know,” he said. “You and he are good friends?”

  “He’s my best friend.”

  As glad as he was to know that he wouldn’t have any problems with an employer discriminating against his brother, he still didn’t trust her. Or anyone. He met her eyes, then. “You might let him know, then…I got no problem going to jail for beating the life out of anyone who hurts my brother.”

  Her smile was kind and displayed those dimples. She turned and looked down into her beer and nodded. “Your record confirms that. You don’t have to worry about Adam, though.”

  He watched as Adam finally made a move, reaching out to put his hand on top of Cash’s. Cash pulled away and leaned back in his chair, a cocky half-grin on his face. “Time will tell.”

  The band finished their set and announced a fifteen minute break. Cora quietly sipped her beer. It was hard to tell whether she was waiting for him to speak or not. Maybe she was done. Maybe if he got up and walked away, she wouldn’t even notice. He decided to scan the room, again. He hadn’t been laid in a few weeks and wouldn’t mind getting lucky tonight. The chick tending bar was hot.

  “She’s a lesbian,” Cora said.

  He glared at her. “Maybe you could make me a list.”

  There was a flash of those dimples again. How old was she? She owned her own business and a successful one at that, but she was definitely younger than his thirty-five. She looked under thirty.

  “How’d you come to own a construction business?” he asked.

  She smiled and looked away. “It was my father’s. He got sick three years ago. It was a slow thing, so he had time to train me on everything. And then he died. Now it’s mine.”

  “You make it all sound so dramatic,” he said, hoping to get a rise out of her.

  She simply shrugged. “I don’t care to let my conversation with you get too personal.”

  He frowned and nodded. “Yeah, we wouldn’t want that. You might end up liking me.”

  “That’s improbable.”

  “You trying to hurt my feelings? Why wouldn’t you like me?”

  She narrowed her eyes at him for a moment. “It’s fairly simple. I don’t like it when I’m hanging out with a guy, and he spends all his time leering at other women.”

  Rye snorted. “You’re jealous?”

  “Jealous? No. That would suggest that I want you to leer at me, which I most definitely don’t. I’m simply talking about good manners. Just being a decent human being.”

  He frowned and gave a thoughtful nod. He glanced toward his brother, who seemed to still be doing good. “Wouldn’t bother me if you were leering at other men. It’s just the nature of the animal.”

  “It wouldn’t bother you because you have confidence in your appearance.”

  He grinned, as she’d caught his attention again. “You don’t have confidence in your appearance?”

  “That’s not what I said.”

  “Someone didn’t get told how pretty she was when she was a little girl?”

  “I didn’t…”

  “You the ugly duckling, Cora?”

  “As a matter of fact I am, you jackass. But that’s not at all the point. It’s still rude to leer during a conversation. Whether it bothers you or not, if I spent my time leering at other men, it would be impolite and uncivilized.”

  Rye supposed she had a point, but he didn't care to admit it. Cora signaled the hot lesbian bartender for another beer.

  Rye leaned back and rested his elbows on the bar. Cash and Adam were getting along great, now. “I had a girlfriend,” he told Cora. “Beth. She’d just flick me between the eyes every time my gaze wandered. Had me trained in less than a week. I didn’t look at another woman once when I was with her. Took me a while after we broke up to start looking again. That’s all you gotta do. Train yourself a man.”

  “Like a dog?” she asked.

  “Yep. Just like a dog.”

  She laughed, and he hurried to look at her before he missed the dimples. Their eyes met for a moment, but the moment was brief because she quickly looked away. She was cradling her beer mug and swirling the amber liquid around slowly. The dimples faded, and he went back to watching his brother. “We should do this again sometime,” Rye said. “Play some pool. Have a couple of beers. How ‘bout it?”

  She let out a laugh. “I was thinking the very opposite. We shouldn’t make a habit of this. It’s far better to keep a professional distance.”

  Cash and Adam rose from their table and headed for the door. Rye drained his beer and stood. “You wanted professional distance, you shouldn’t have shown me those dimples.” He brushed the outline of one of those dimples with the tip of his forefinger and then walked to the end of the bar before she could respond.

  The bartender met him. “I’m getting her drinks, too,” he said, nodding to Cora. He handed the woman his credit card.

  She swiped it. “I don’t think she’s gonna like that.”

  “Ask me if I care.”

  The girl grinned and handed him back his card. He signed the receipt, gave her a wink, and then left to check on his brother.

  Cash walked Adam to his car. The night was cool, but still a little humid. With the absence of city lights, the stars shown brightly. After all the noise in the bar, the quiet evening sounds were like a massage for his eardrums.

  “Let me drive you home,” Adam said. He turned to face Cash, leaning back against his car.

  “That’s all right. I’ll ride home with Rye.”

  Adam smiled. “Please?”

  Cash laughed and looked away. “We just met, man. No, way.”

  “Kiss goodnight?”

  Cash swallowed and felt his heart jump into his throat. “I don’t think so.”

  Adam kept his distance, for which Cash was grateful. But he sighed, visibly disappointed. “All right, love, but you’re going to have to go out with me. You owe me that much with all the rejection you’ve heaped on me tonight.”

  Adam’s gaze was playful, but there was an underlying heat that had Cash turning hard before he could think to try and stop himself. “Yeah. We could do this again. If you want.”

  “Great,” Adam said. “Tomorrow night?”

  “Sure. I’ll meet you up here.”

  Adam licked his lips and let his eyes do a once over, down and then up. He nodded. “Meet you at eight.”

  Cash shook his hand and walked to the truck where he could see Rye leaning against the grill with his arms crossed over his chest. Cash’s own, personal guardian angel.

  They rode home in silence. The apartment was still a mess with opened, half-unpacked boxes everywhere. C
ash made his way to the shower to clean up. When he got out, Rye was sitting on the couch frowning at the TV. Only the TV wasn’t on.

  “You okay?” Cash asked. He sat next to him.

  Rye slowly met his eyes. “Yeah. I think I’m just tired.”

  “Did you like Adam?”

  “Too soon to tell.”

  “Well, I’m meeting him tomorrow night.”

  Rye nodded and turned his eyes back to the blank TV. “I’ll be there in case you need me.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “It’s okay. I spent all evening with the boss. Tomorrow I’d like to talk to an actual girl.”

  “That’s kind of a mean thing to say.”

  Rye shrugged and finally turned the television on.

  “Rye?” Cash asked slowly.

  Rye grunted.

  “Do you like the boss lady?”

  “No.”

  Cash grinned. This was interesting. Rye was as focused as he could get on the television that was, at the moment, playing a commercial for laundry detergent. “She’s a good ‘ole girl,” Cash said. “What’s not to like?”

  “She’s weird.”

  “No, she isn’t.”

  “Shut up. I can’t stand her. I don’t want to hang out with her anymore.”

  Cash shook his head. This did not bode well. One evening together and the woman had gotten under his skin. “Are you aware that you act like a grade-school boy when you have a crush on a woman? I wouldn’t be at all surprised to see you pull her pigtails tomorrow or stick a frog in her locker.”

  “I’m going to kick your ass if you don’t shut up.”

  Cash wasn’t worried about that. But he did figure it was time to back off. He actually wanted Rye to find a nice woman to settle down with, and that would never happen if he were too stubbornly determined to look like he didn’t care.

  Cash relaxed back into the couch and propped his feet up on a box. He dozed off to fantasies of Adam.

  Cora occupied her drive home listening to the changes in the sounds of her tires. She could mark the drive from Darcy’s back to her house by the changes—thirty seconds of crunch and crackle, followed by five minutes of steady hum, two minutes of tha-thunk, tha-thunk, tha-thunk, and home at last. Unfortunately, when she turned off her ignition, there was nothing else to distract her from the fluttering in her stomach and the shaking of her hands.