Found at the Bookstore

by Christi Snow

  A green fog of jealousy settled over Ryder’s vision. Just how had this waiter taken care of Stig? What other recreational services did this club offer? Ryder looked at those scant uniforms in an entirely different light. He scowled at the guy.

  Stig leaned over to him to whisper, “Would you rather have one of the waitresses instead of a waiter?”

  Ryder’s mouth dropped open. “What the fuck, Stig?” he hissed. “Is this some sort of bordello?”

  “Nooo,” Stig said slowly. “Evan, can you give us a couple of minutes and then maybe we’ll take a look at that menu?”

  The waiter looked embarrassed as he backed away. “Sure, just flag me down once you know what you’d like, even if it’s another server.” He seemed hurt as he fled their table.

  Great, now Ryder had to deal with guilt, too.

  “What’s wrong?” Stig asked once the waiter left. “Why would you say that?”

  Ryder closed his eyes in a grimace. He’d misread everything here, hadn’t he? “Can we start out by saying in my defense I don’t go out very often?” He glanced up at Stig’s smirking face. “I think maybe I misread the situation.”

  “Um, you think?” Stig snorted.

  “He was just so flirty and you were so...well, you.”

  At that Stig broke out with a loud laugh. “Yeah, sorry about that. I hate it when I act like me, too.”

  “You’re not going to make this any easier on me, are you?”

  Stig shook his head. “Hell, no. You’re too cute, blushing like that, for me to change a thing about this conversation. Besides, I think I kind of like that little jealous streak you had going there.” Stig gaze was intense as if trying to figure Ryder out.

  Good luck with that. Ryder couldn’t even figure himself out right now.

  He’d been jealous. What the actual fuck? How had he not realized or even guessed he might be gay before meeting Stig?

  “Hey.” Stig grabbed hold of his forearm, resting on the table. “Ry, are you okay?”

  “Um, yeah...just embarrassed. Can we pretend none of this ever happened?”

  “Sure, should I have Evan bring over some menus now?”

  “Yes, if the poor guy will come back. Geez, I’m a hot mess. No wonder I never go out.”

  Stig chuckled low, and the sound rolled down Ryder’s spine with a tantalizing tingle. “You’re not that bad. You just need to relax.”

  Fifteen minutes later, they’d both ordered cappuccinos...Ryder had ordered the cinnamon dolce, and Stig had ordered the peppermint. The wood trays the wait staff carried also held various holiday cookies and sweets to eat. They’d both added a piece of biscotti to their order and then settled in to listen to the music and absorb the nice, laidback vibe of the place.

  When the guitarists left the stage, Ryder turned to Stig, surprised to find the guy studying him. “What’s wrong? Do I have a milk mustache or something?”

  “No.” Stig shook his head. “I’m just watching you take it all in. It’s something I’ve noticed over the years with artists. You all take note and react to every minute detail.”

  Since Ryder had just been envisioning how he’d take photos of the low-lit atmosphere, he ducked his head. “What can I say? You get used to looking at life through a certain lens...at least, that’s the way it works for me.”

  “So, if you were to take photos here, how would you do it?”

  Ryder reexamined the room. “I think the most interesting shot would come from the side of the stage. I’d get in close to the guitarist and angle the camera so that I had the guitar in focus but you would still be able to see the barely focused audience and candles in the background...really fuzzy. It would create an almost impressionistic photo.”

  “Then what would you do with that photo for the painting/black/white image?”

  Ryder stilled. “I don’t know,” he said slowly and swallowed the excess saliva flooding his mouth. “I don’t really know how that part works.”

  Stig had been in the process of lifting his mug to his mouth, but he stopped with it halfway there and stared at Ryder in shock.

  Ryder studied his mug handle, wishing they’d never gone down this avenue of discussion. He tried to change the subject. “So, are you looking forward to Vegas?”

  “Sure,” Stig rushed to answer. “But let’s go back for a moment. What do you mean, you don’t know how it works?”

  Ryder looked up at the ceiling and bit his lip for a moment. Was he really going to confess this to Stig, someone he looked up to? Yes, because he hated lies. “That part of the art comes from the damaged part of my brain. It only happens when I’m glitching, and I never remember creating the pieces.”

  “Seriously?” Stig’s mouth had dropped open a bit.

  “Yeah.”

  Stig tilted his head as if he were studying Ryder like he would a science experiment. “Were you an artist before you got hurt?”

  Ryder shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. Honestly, I never had time between football and my school stuff to do anything else, but I don’t remember wanting to create with any particular medium or anything like that. Not like Tommy. He always dabbled with various art forms growing up, and he was the one who got me my first camera. After I got hurt, I lost my ability to verbalize for a long time. He’d hoped the photography would allow me to express myself in other ways.”

  “Your brother is an amazing guy,” Stig agreed. “Mac is very lucky.”

  Ryder hesitated for a moment. “Does that bother you?”

  Ryder had wondered this several times since he’d started becoming friends with Stig if he still in love with Mac. Was he heartbroken that he wasn’t the one getting married to the famous author?

  Stig looked away uncomfortably. “Yes and no,” he finally answered.

  Ryder’s stomach sank.

  “I’m completely over Mac,” Stig continued. “I’m not in love with him anymore. In fact, I’m not sure I ever was in love with him. What I missed was the idea of what he represented. I could see a future with him...the house in the suburbs with a couple of dogs, maybe an adopted kid. He’s the only person I’ve ever dated that I could imagine that kind of future with. The loss of that idea is what bothers me more than the loss of Mac specifically.”

  “There are other guys out there you could have that with.”

  Stig patted Ryder’s hand like he would a small child. “Unfortunately, it’s not as easy as that. That’s okay. I’ll just stay a pathetic, swinging, single guy until I’m an old and dried up queen.”

  Ryder frowned. What an awful outlook. But before he could say anything about it, another performer took to the stage and they dropped the subject.

  But it wasn’t an idea Ryder could accept for his friend. He didn’t like that Stig thought it was acceptable, either. It felt too close to giving up, and that was something he knew way too much about.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ryder

  Ryder hung up the phone and noted tomorrow’s appointment in his life guide, aka his calendar planner. Then he sat, tapping the page in thought. He wanted to talk to Stig and this would be the perfect excuse.

  After their night out last night, he’d come home more confused than ever. Yes, he was without a doubt drawn to Stig. But he couldn’t help but question the validity of that when he’d never felt attraction to a man before. It wasn’t like homosexuality was a foreign concept to him. He had just never considered it as something that applied to him. And it still might not. It occurred to him that he felt this attraction for Stig simply as some sort of overgrown gratitude. He’d had so few friends in his adult life. Was that where the attraction came from?

  Before now, he’d always approached women he found attractive, but even he could admit that his enthusiasm about the idea of dating had been mediocre at best. In high school, he had more important things to pursue—football and his studies. Girls had placed a very far third.

  Then he’d gotten hurt and couldn’t get his body to do the simplest tasks. Se
x was so far off the table it might as well have been on another continent.

  And now, he felt this undeniable attraction to Stig, but could he trust how he felt enough to act on it? He liked having Stig as a friend. If he ruined that friendship with some misguided idea about his sexuality...

  He shook his head. He wouldn’t do that. He and Stig were friends. That’s all. That had to be all they could ever be. But he wanted to be Stig’s friend, too, and from what he’d seen, Stig was lonely. He wanted to fix that.

  Before he could waffle anymore, he looked up Stig’s phone number and dialed.

  “Hey, Ry,” Stig answered. “Is everything okay?”

  And just like that—with the sound of Stig’s voice rumbling in his ear—his dick sprang to life. “Yeah, it’s fine. I wanted to call and thank you for last night. I had a really good time.”

  “Is that your way of asking if we can do it again tonight?”

  “Oh, no.” That wasn’t what he’d been thinking at all.

  Last night had wiped him out pretty hard. He was in his wheelchair today, which meant there was no going out to a club anytime in his near future. In fact, he needed to make sure to get extra rest tonight so he could manage to make his appointment tomorrow.

  “I had fun, but two nights in a row is a bit much for me.” Fuck, could he sound more geriatric?

  Stig was silent for a moment.

  Ryder rushed on to fill the awkward silence. “Actually, I was calling to see if you wanted to come with me tomorrow. I’m doing a photo shoot that is going to be a bit different for me. I’m going to have a model as my focal point. It’s an experiment...and I thought you might enjoy it.”

  “Really? I’d love to come. What time?”

  “I’ll swing by and pick you up on the way to get Remy if that works for you...around three.”

  “That sounds good.” Stig hesitated, so Ryder waited to see if he wanted to continue with whatever train of thought he had. “Call me in the morning if driving is going to be too much, and I can bring the delivery truck again.”

  “Thanks, but I should be fine.” And that was another reason why he couldn’t start anything else with Stig. No matter how good he felt on a certain day, Ryder’s handicap would always be there, needing care that sometimes required kid gloves. No one—male or female—needed to have to deal with that shit. “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Hey, Ry?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks for inviting me.” Then the line clicked dead.

  Ryder sank his head into his hands, hoping he hadn’t just made a monumental mistake. Friends, they were only friends.

  He glared down at his half-hard dick that had perked up the moment Stig’s voice had sounded over the phone like some sort of horny, Pavlovian dog in heat. What a time for his body to come out of its long hibernation.

  ***

  Stig

  Stig stared through the windshield at the boy walking with Ryder. He was small with a slight sway to his hips. Before they’d arrived, Ryder had told him that Remy was eighteen, but Stig would have guessed closer to twelve. He definitely had a twink vibe going, especially with the skinny jeans, makeup, and swish to his walk.

  But as the couple drew closer, he could see why Ryder wanted to photograph the boy. He was gorgeous...ebony dark skin as smooth as porcelain, wide, expressive eyes lined with guyliner, and sculpted, high cheekbones. His lush mouth glistened with lip-gloss, finishing the look that left Stig feeling flustered. It was hard to look away from the boy’s gorgeous beauty, but he was still so fucking young it felt almost dirty to enjoy the view.

  Remy opened the back door of Ryder’s car and threw his large duffle in before climbing in. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Remy. Ryder said your name is Stig? That’s cool, but what kind of name is that?”

  Ryder joined them in the car and chuckled at the question.

  “It’s a family name...German. What about Remy? Is that short for something?”

  “Yeah.” The kid sighed. “My real name is Remington. I wish I could say it was a family name, but my mom was high when she had me, and she had a crush on that guy from the TV show, Remington Steele. She stuck around long enough to curse me with the name that I never could spell in elementary school, so one of my teachers shortened it to Remy for me. I don’t know if that’s better or worse. I guess it’s unique, like me.”

  Remy looked out the window, looking embarrassed as he nibbled on the edge of his thumbnail. “Sorry, I ramble when I’m nervous.” The kid turned back to Stig with a negligent shrug.

  Stig winked. “Yeah, Ryder intimidates me sometimes, too.” He quirked a glance over at Ryder. He was smiling although he didn’t engage as he concentrated on his driving. “So, I don’t even know. What’s the plan for the day?”

  He glanced into the backseat and his eyes widened as a flash of bare ebony skin caught his eye and he realized that Remy was changing clothes. “Whoa, warn a guy.”

  Remy blew a raspberry at him. “I think your innocent, virginal eyes can handle my scrawny ass. I’m thinking you’ve probably seen a lot more in your time.” He raised a very sculpted brow in challenge.

  Stig turned and muttered, “Wow, you didn’t stay nervous for very long, did you?”

  “Less than five minutes, and he already has you figured out.” Ryder flashed a smile at Remy in the rearview mirror, but then he glanced over at Stig. “To answer your question, I have permission from the Denver Botanic Gardens to shoot for the rest of the day there. We have several different looks we want to play with for some different effects. Their lights are already lit for the holidays, so I’m hoping to see what we can do with the Christmas lights after dark to get some interesting shots.”

  Excitement thrummed under Stig’s skin. He was anxious to watch Ryder’s artistry at work.

  When they pulled into the parking lot of the Botanic Gardens, Remy had moved on to doing his makeup. “I just need five more minutes to do the fiddly stuff I couldn’t do while we were driving and bouncing,” he said.

  Stig and Ryder both got out of the car, leaving Remy inside to finish up. The late afternoon sun felt good since the clear skies had brought colder temperatures.

  “Did you prearrange what he would do?” Stig asked.

  “Not really. I told him the ideas I had and what feelings I wanted to evoke with each shot. He took the reins from there. He wants to work in the theater and already had some costumes along with some amazing ideas and skills. I trust that whatever he does...I can make it work.” Ryder exchanged the lens on his camera to a longer reach one. “I don’t normally work with models, so this will be an experiment in art for both of us.”

  “Where did you meet him?”

  Ryder flushed deep red. “I spoke out at the boys’ ranch where he lives a couple of weeks ago. He was hanging out afterward and gave me a hard time after I asked the ranch director on a date, and she shot me down.”

  She. After the past few days spent with Ryder, Stig had conveniently forgotten that he was straight. It was too easy to read more into their interactions when Ryder was actually just being a nice guy instead of the flirty guy Stig wanted to see.

  “It was right after you’d mentioned doing a gallery showing,” Ryder said, “and I took one look at that amazing bone structure of his and was inspired.”

  Stig stilled mid-way through taking the big, heavy camera bag off Ryder’s shoulder and shifting it to his own. He could at least act as the pack mule for this excursion. “Does that mean you’re reconsidering doing a gallery show?”

  “I don’t know...maybe,” Ryder answered slowly as he released the bag to Stig. “Let’s see what I get here first and then we’ll see, but you need to know I won’t ever show the paintings. If those are required, then my answer is a hard no.”

  Stig’s specialty was convincing other men to rethink their “hard no’s”, but he didn’t want to pressure Ryder into something he would regret later. “I just don’t understand why.”

  “I’ve been
to gallery showings with Tommy before. I know how it works. The patrons want to discuss the artist’s process while they gush about their work.” Ryder stopped fiddling with his camera and looked up at him with an imploring gaze. “Stig, I don’t remember my process. I’d feel like a complete fraud. Do you get that?”

  Yeah, he actually did. What Ryder said made sense. He nodded. “Your photography is amazing enough to do a showing all on its own. I’d be thrilled to display your photos in the gallery.”

  “Okay, so we’ll see how these turn out and go from there.” Ryder tilted his head as Remy approached them.

  Stig turned to check him out, too. “Oh, hell. That boy is a menace. I thought he was just a beautiful twink, but look at him.” He’d donned a stylized fairy outfit that put Galleon’s stylings to shame. If the boy weren’t so young, it would be tempting to pair him up with Galleon to see what they could come up with together. It was pretty much guaranteed to be amazingly gorgeous.

  Remy’s makeup had a feminine flair with cheekbone contouring and lashes highlighted by silver lines that looked like intricate tattoos etched into his skin. He’d left the dark scruff of his beard to show, so there was doubt he was a man. He’d covered his dark hair with a silver wig that looked like a shaggy, male version of a woman’s pixie cut.

  The silver in his hair and makeup echoed through the rest of his outfit. He wore some sort of tarnished silver armor that looked like it had been sculpted to hug every curve of his form. Stig had thought Remy had looked childlike before, but this was no child’s body. The fabric wasn’t metal, but it looked protective like metal would.

  Remy didn’t have much skin exposed, but what dark skin was visible was lined with more of the intricate silver etchings. How the hell had the kid done all this makeup in just the last few minutes?

  Speechless, neither Ryder nor he said anything as Remy approached.

  Remy looked from one to the other with worry. “It’s too much, isn’t it?”

  “Hell, no,” Ryder whispered, the awe in his voice echoing exactly how Stig felt. He cleared his throat. “You look perfect. This is going to be amazing.”