Found at the Bookstore

by Christi Snow

  “Then yeah, let’s do it.”

  Stig nodded and then hesitantly broached the subject he’d been avoiding all day. “I get the feeling you aren’t real thrilled with something—me...this trip. I’m not sure. I know you’ve been unhappy today, and I’ll probably kick myself for spoiling that now that you seem better, but I have to know. Are you okay?”

  Ryder took a bite of the pie and chewed it slowly as he drew his fork through the remaining cherry filling in the carryout container. “I’m sorry. I know the car ride hasn’t been the most enjoyable.” He shrugged and then met Stig’s gaze. “But I think you’re going to be disappointed by what happens with this doctor and treatment. I get that you have high hopes that I’ll suddenly become normal again.”

  Is that what Ryder thought he wanted? He’d fallen for Ryder exactly as he was. He didn’t need anything else.

  Ryder shook his head and looked across the square. “That isn’t going to happen. I’ve lived like this for eight years. Believe me, I understand it feels good to get your hopes up. By its very definition, hope is a good thing, but every time those hopes are dashed, it takes another chunk of my soul away.”

  Ryder threw his arms out to his sides and looked Stig right in the eye. “This is the way I am now. I’ve had to learn to accept that. It’s either that or give up completely. I tried that route last year. It didn’t solve anything, either.”

  Stig shuddered at what Ryder had almost accomplished last year. This world would be a much more unhappy place without Ryder in it. “Ry, I’m not trying to change you. I like you. I’m hoping to improve your quality of life.” Was that really so wrong? To want Ryder to actually feel good most the time? It didn’t sound like such an awful thing to him.

  “I know you want this,” Ryder said slowly, “and I’m willing to go along with it, but it’s not going to work. I know you want me to hope, but I just can’t. I don’t have it in me anymore.”

  Stig wanted to argue, but he could see what this was already costing Ryder. He understood why Ryder may not want to hope, and he couldn’t even blame him for it. And Ryder was absolutely right. This very well might not work. Was it wrong for him to continue to push Ryder to try this?

  He considered Ryder’s point of view. They hadn’t discussed what it had been like after he’d been hurt. Ryder had been brilliant, and he still saw flashes of that even now. But the brain injury had stolen most of that from him. How many times had he been told—especially in those early days—that his brain would heal, that he’d recover...and then he just...didn’t? That loss must have been devastating.

  The outcome of this medical trip didn’t matter to Stig. Did he want Ryder to have a better quality of life? Hell, yes. Would this treatment and its outcome change his commitment to them and their future? Hell, no.

  He loved Ryder.

  He should be shocked by that revelation, and to a certain extent, he was. This wasn’t something he’d ever expected. It had been growing for a while, but today, in this moment, he had no doubt in his mind anymore.

  Ryder may be trying to push him aside, but he’d soon find out that Stig was more stubborn than Ryder could ever be. Ry was stuck with him...in sickness or in health. Stig just hoped—hell, yes hoped—that the future meant health.

  Ryder stood up and shoved his cherry pie into the sack, not meeting Stig’s eyes. “Since you can’t use your credit cards, I’ll go get us rooms at the B&B. You go over and check out the gallery. I’ll catch up with you in a bit.” Ryder shouldered his camera bag and strode away, his need to escape covering any weakness in his leg.

  Stig wanted to call out to him, to expose this jumbled mess in his mind, but Ryder was already so upset. He didn’t want to exacerbate that even more, especially before he had it all sorted out. He wouldn’t lay anything more on Ryder’s shoulders for now.

  So yes, he understood that Ryder might not want to get his hopes up for this treatment. But regardless of how it turned out—whether the treatment worked or not—Ryder wouldn’t be getting rid of him that easily.

  He had high hopes for this thing brewing between the two of them, too.

  ***

  Ryder

  Ryder took a deep breath as he steeled himself, trying to calm his emotions so he could enter the gorgeous Victorian bed and breakfast. It wouldn’t do to walk in, looking like he was on the verge of a breakdown. The big, white house sat up on a hill, so regal with its deep-green decorative gingerbread trim and touches of turquoise blue. The Peacock.

  His spirits buoyed even though he still felt like his insides were being shredded by a cheese grater. Overall, it had been a miserable day to start off what promised to be a miserable week, but he did like this little town. There were so many little details—like this hotel—that made it a perfect escape from reality.

  Maybe things would improve here.

  He slowly mounted the stairs up to the grand porch that encircled the hotel. He could imagine sitting in the dark-green rocking chairs in the summer, drinking lemonade and watching young families out walking after dinner. He shook his head and smiled at his folly. Maybe he’d have to come back and visit again this summer just to see if it really worked that way.

  But just as soon as that thought occurred to him, so did the knowledge that if there was a next time it wouldn’t include Stig. He swayed and grabbed hold of the porch railing to steady himself, reeling from the blow. Damn, he would miss Stig. He pulled open the leaded glass double front door of the inn.

  A good-looking, muscular man wearing glasses and reading a book sat at the reception desk just inside the entryway. When the bell above the door rang, he glanced up with a friendly smile. He stood and looked Ryder up and down. “Welcome to the Peacock.” His voice was deep and welcoming. “Do you need a room for tonight?”

  “I do...actually, two rooms if you have them.”

  “We do.” The man glanced curiously behind Ryder, taking in the lack of friends or family with him.

  “My friend stayed in town to visit the gallery while I checked us in. I hope that’s okay.”

  “Absolutely, Mr...?”

  “I’m sorry.” Ryder reached across the desk to offer his hand. “I’m Ryder Garrett. My friend who will be joining me is Stig.”

  “Nice to meet you.” The desk clerk shook his hand. “Welcome to the Peacock and Carson, Kansas. I’m William Sturgess. I own the place with my husband, Jeff. He’s not here right now, although he’ll be back in time to make dinner. We’ll sort your rooms, and we can discuss your options for the evening meal. You said you and your friend wanted separate rooms, correct?”

  For a moment, Ryder hesitated. Separate rooms weren’t at all what he wanted. It was so tempting to give in just one last time, but he’d just made his stand with Stig. He couldn’t back out of it already. “Yeah, separate rooms would be best.”

  “Best?” William held his pen poised over the ledger, but now he tapped his lip with it. “You don’t sound very sure. Would you like rooms with a door connecting in case something changes later?” He winked suggestively at Ryder.

  “Oh, god, no. In fact, you should probably put us far, far away from each other so there’s no temptation. I don’t know how strong I can be.” He cupped his hand over his mouth. “Fuck, I shouldn’t have said that. Nothing like a bit of diarrhea of the mouth. Ignore me. It’s been a long few weeks.”

  William set the pen down on the desk and tilted his head. “It may help to talk it through,” he said softly. “I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”

  He really wished he could. It would be nice to have someone else’s opinion on all this. Normally, he’d go to Tommy for advice, but he refused to bother his brother on his honeymoon. Not for something like this, something he totally should be able to decide for himself. “Thanks, I appreciate the offer, but it’s too complicated to get into unless you have a few hours.”

  William laughed. “You know, love shouldn’t be that hard. I get that sometimes it is...or at least it feels like it is. But all t
hat should really matter is the emotions between the two of you. If the emotions are there, then everything else can be worked out. Or you know, if it’s all about the sex and it’s good...then that’s even easier. If it’s not hurting anyone else, just go for it.”

  Ryder’s face got hot, and he knew he had to have turned beet red.

  “And now I’ve embarrassed you. Damn, Jeff is going to shoot me. He keeps telling me that I can’t just say whatever pops into my head to the guests. He’s much better at this part than I am.”

  “No, it’s fine. You’re not wrong. I still think I need to stay far away from Stig’s room, though, if it’s all the same to you. The farther, the better.”

  “No, problem. I’ll put you in suite five on the second floor. Your friend can have suite eleven on the third floor. Both of those rooms have all the amenities—a full bath, king sized beds, and include breakfast in the morning and dinner tonight.”

  “That sounds perfect. Thank you.” Ryder passed across his credit card, ignoring the tightening of his chest. He really kind of wished the B&B hadn’t been able to be quite so accommodating. Where was a tourist rush in small town Kansas when a guy needed it so that they would have had to share a room?

  William handed him a menu. “Jeff is a trained chef. We offer all the dishes you’ll find on there for dinner, which is served at seven o’clock. But we do need your order by five so we can plan accordingly.”

  Ryder glanced at the clock on the wall behind the reception desk. It was just around three right now.

  “That’s fine. Can I keep this? That way Stig can look at it, too.” At William’s nod, he stuffed it into the outside pocket of his camera bag.

  “Do you have any luggage that you need brought in?” William asked.

  “Yes, but our truck is still down on the square. I’m going back down there to meet Stig in a little bit, and then we’ll come back and get settled for the evening.”

  “Okay. Would you like me to show you the suites now or wait until you both return?”

  Physically, he felt good, but didn’t want to push his endurance if he didn’t have to by hiking up a couple of flights of stairs. “When we get back is fine. Thanks.”

  William nodded. “I’m looking forward to meeting your man.”

  Ryder shook his head emphatically. “Not my man, but he is a good guy.” Stig just wasn’t the guy for him, no matter how much Ryder wished he could be.

  “We should be back within the hour. Thanks, William.” With a wave, Ryder left the inn to search out Stig.

  ***

  Ryder pushed through the door of the gallery Stig had said he wanted to visit. A young woman stood with her arm around Stig and her phone held out in front as she tried to take a selfie of the two of them.

  Ryder rushed over to help. “Allow me?”

  She looked at him with surprise. “Um, sure, that would be great.”

  Stig smiled, and Ryder’s heartbeat ratcheted up a notch.

  “Staci,” Stig said with a nod at Ryder. “This is my friend, Ryder. He’s an artist, too, both a photographer and painter.”

  “I’m more of a photographer,” Ryder mumbled in apology as he looked at the expertly crafted paintings around the room. It didn’t seem right to claim the painter credential since he never remembered creating any of those paintings or even how he did it.

  “Say cheese.” He snapped the photo and then glanced around her gallery. “And from the looks of things, I have nowhere near your talent.” The gallery walls were filled with lush landscapes and portraits done in a pointillist style to create gorgeous art. “These are incredible. Are they all yours?”

  “Thank you. Yes, they’re all mine.” She shrugged. “Creating them fills the time, and I like to have something to show for my life at the end of the day.”

  “That’s actually kind of profound. I like that...and may just have to steal it from you.” Ryder grinned at her.

  “Feel free.” Staci took the phone from him and smiled as she looked at the photo. “My art teacher is going to flip when she finds out the Stig Minton came into my gallery.”

  Ryder raised his eyebrows and smirked at Stig. “Someone has a fan.”

  Stig actually blushed, but so did Staci.

  It was actually fun to see Stig embarrassed. “So, have you ever been to his gallery?”

  “No, she hasn’t,” Stig answered for her. “Before you came in, I was trying to convince her to do a showing.”

  Staci beamed. “To which I responded with a ‘hell, yes!’”

  Ryder decided then and there that he liked Staci. “Wise woman.”

  “Says the man who hasn’t agreed to let me showcase him yet.” Stig’s look was full of challenge.

  Ryder just shook his head. “And you know why that is.” He refocused, on the artist watching their interplay with curious interest. “I like this. Do you name your pieces?” He pointed to a smaller piece compared to most of her canvases—maybe a foot square. In the center of the painting in the pouring rain stood an indistinct couple behind a rainbow umbrella. Overall, the piece was filled with shades of gray, which made the brightly colored umbrella that much more the focus.

  Staci nodded. “Yes, that one’s called Hope for a Better Future.”

  Stig hissed in a deep breath. “That’s pretty much perfect,” he whispered and gave Ryder a meaningful stare.

  Ryder had to look away as his eyes filled with tears. Why couldn’t this be easy? It would be so natural to give in and go along with Stig and ignore the fact he’d be crushed later. Every moment spent with Stig made that reality seem further away.

  Hope. Yeah, that word teased at him, giving him possibilities that would never come to fruition and would eventually tear his heart out of his chest with a death-knell blow.

  “It’s fate,” Stig stated behind him. “I’d like to buy it if it’s for sale.”

  “What?” Staci sounded breathless with excitement.

  No matter the angst happening within Ryder, he couldn’t help but turning to smile at her excitement. What Stig did, fulfilling dreams for artists, was an amazing thing.

  “No, you can just have it,” she said. “You’re giving me this amazing opportunity.” She lifted the painting off the wall and tried to push it into Stig’s arms, but he shook his head.

  “No. The first rule for becoming successful in the art world is that you never underestimate the value of your work. If you don’t value your work, then no one else will either. In my gallery, I would sell that piece for around two thousand dollars.”

  “Two thousand dollars?” she whispered. “Nothing in here is priced at more than two hundred dollars.”

  Stig gave her a kind smile. “Well, in Denver, I can promise you that you’ll easily make ten times that and more on most of these pieces.” He pulled out his wallet and began counting off hundred dollar bills.

  Staci’s eyes got wider and wider the longer he counted.

  He passed the stack over to her. “Get used to it. Your art is worth that and more. I don’t know when I’ll be back in the gallery fulltime, but I promise you’ll be hearing from me by January.” He smiled over to Ryder. “Carson, Kansas was a very good pit stop for us today.”

  Fifteen minutes later, they left the gallery with Staci’s excited words and thanks for coming by following behind them.

  “You know, you just made her Christmas,” Ryder said.

  “Yeah, well, I also just gave her all the cash I had on me, so you’re going to have to support me the rest of this trip.”

  Ryder couldn’t help but laugh. “Who would have thought the rich and powerful Stig Minton could have so easily been brought down to begging for his room and board? I feel like I should use this to my advantage.”

  Stig’s steps faltered as he stopped and turned to Ryder. “You promise? Because I’m telling you right now...however you want to take advantage, I’m good with it.”

  Ryder’s throat dried, and he had to clear his throat to even get a word out. “You really
don’t play fair, do you?”

  “No,” Stig said as he gently nudged at Ryder’s side. “And I need you to remember that. I’m not giving up on us...ever. So really, you might as well shove over right now and let me have my way with you.”

  Ryder barked out a shocked laugh. And there was that temptation he’d been telling William about. Thank fuck, their rooms were far, far away from one another.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Stig

  Stig rolled over, punched down the pillow for the fiftieth time, and kicked off the covers. It’s not that he was uncomfortable. In fact, all the amenities at the B&B were top of the line, a very pleasant surprise in this small town. But he wasn’t going to fall asleep. He’d been trying for over an hour now.

  Worry for Ryder was keeping him awake. Not only was his attitude worrisome, but Stig kept imagining worst-case scenarios.

  He was clear on the other side of the inn, on a whole other floor from Ryder. It had been a long day, and Ryder had barely recovered from his last brain glitch. What if something happened in the middle of the night, and he got up, trying to get to his studio? He could fall down the stairs and break his neck.

  Stig had been debating with himself for the last hour. He wanted to go camp out in the hall outside Ryder’s room just to make sure nothing happened. That wasn’t creepy, right? He sat up in bed and ran his hand through his hair.

  Creepy or not, he couldn’t sit here and do nothing but toss and turn. He got up and slipped on some jeans and a T-shirt.

  The inn was quiet as he stepped out into the hall. There had been two other couples at dinner, but the innkeepers had said they were about two-thirds full occupancy. With twenty-one rooms, that had to amount to at least fifteen or more guests, but Stig wouldn’t guess it right now. He padded down the stairs from the third floor and softly tread across the wood floors to stand outside Ryder’s door. He didn’t hear anything inside.

  He glanced up and down the hall. Everything was quiet and there was a small sitting area at the end of the hall. An idea began to form. He nodded and went down the stairs to the first floor. William and Jeff had told them that they left coffee and heated water in the foyer of the inn all night long in case someone needed a warm drink. Resigned to a night without sleep, Stig headed there first and filled a mug with coffee, adding a dash of half-and-half so it wouldn’t be so rough on his stomach. Then he went into the large library.