Page 88 of More Than a Spark

RYDER

Iwatched the server set down our trays of bruschetta, then leave. I perused an assortment of colors, some had the classic tomato and basil, while others had cream cheese and smoked salmon. “Damn, this looks good.” I held my hand above the trays. What should I start with?

“Go ahead, dig in. I know how much you eat.” Bonnie giggled, then sipped her wine, her blue eyes twinkling at me.

“Don’t mind if I do.” I went for a piece of each, piling them on my plate. It was so nice being here with Milo and his mom. They’d always felt like home. No wonder it had been so easy to be more than best friends with Milo.

Bonnie set some bruschetta pieces on her plate. “So, I must know, Ryder, when did you figure out you were attracted to men?” She bit into a slice of bread with brie and honey on it.

I knew that would come up. It was the obvious question to ask. “A few weeks before I moved down here, I guess.” I snuck a peek at Milo, biting into the salmon bruschetta and watching me. He probably didn’t want to hear about Tate again.

She set her food down, then wiped her fingers on a napkin resting on her lap. “So, it didn’t start with Milo?” She raised her brows.

“Um, no. I became good friends with a gay firefighter up in Flag. We’d worked some calls together, forest fires, and hung out after.” I twisted my lips. What was it about Tate that had attracted me to him? He was a good-looking guy, for sure, but not like Milo at all.

“And so, what happened with him? I mean, did you date?” She drank some wine, then ate some bruschetta.

I huffed a laugh and rubbed my temple. “No, we never dated. It was just a hookup, I guess.” This was awkward. “It caught me by surprise, and I was pretty confused by the whole thing.”

Milo’s gaze fixated on me as he drank his wine.

“Oh, so, how did you two…” Furrowing her brows, she glanced at Milo.

“I-I don’t know, when I came back into town, he looked different to me. It’s like something had woken up inside me.” I snuck my upper lip between my teeth. What had Milo really thought about it all? Come to think of it, he’d given in to dating me without a second thought. Had he always wanted more from me?

“I see.” She squeezed Milo’s hand, resting on the table between them. “You’re the happiest I’ve ever seen you.”

“I am, Mom. Ryder is everything I’ve always wanted.” He beamed at me.

My heart swelled with emotion. “Bonnie, we love each other. Like really love each other.” As if she couldn’t see it for herself.

“Oh, you two. I’m so happy for you.” With a grin and a tick of her shoulders, she squeezed my hand, too. “I always knew what you both had was something special.”

* * *

After another eveningin Milo’s bedroom, exploring each other slowly with drawn out blow jobs and lots of cuddling in bed, I rose early on Sunday to go home to see my father. I wanted to get his take on the dinner with Mom. Sure, she’d said she wanted to mend our relationship, but I had a hard time trusting it.

I drove my truck into the driveway of Dad’s small, white bungalow and parked.

Dad stood bent over the engine of his work truck in the carport, the hood raised.

I climbed out of my truck and ambled toward him, my duffle bag of clothes in my hand. “What are you working on now?” The man couldn’t help but to have some sort of project every day.

He took a step back and straightened, rubbing the grease off his hands onto a red rag, his t-shirt hanging off his frame and work trousers stained with paint. “Just an oil change. I’m having a terrible time getting the filter off. I think the shop I used last time welded the damn thing on.” He chuckled. “How was your weekend with Milo?”

“Great.” I patted his shoulder. “I had dinner with Mom and Malcolm. Can I talk to you about it?” Maybe now wasn’t a great time, since he was in the middle of something.

“Of course. Let me wash my hands and I’ll make us some coffee.” With a warm smile, he ambled into the house through the carport door and into the kitchen with me following.

I set my duffle on the Saltillo tile floor and perused the original oak cabinets and cream Formica counters. Funny, but even with him being in construction, he’d never remodeled this house. Maybe after working construction all day, he didn’t want to do it when he came home.

He started a pot of coffee, then rested his ass against the kitchen island counter and faced me. “Was it a good dinner, or bad?”

“It was okay…I think.” I gnawed my lower lip. “I came out to them.” Dipping my head, I huffed a laugh. “Well, Milo outed me by accident, but I’m glad he did.” At some point, me and Milo would have to talk some more about this job thing. But there was no point unless or until he actually got the job.

As the stream of coffee slowed into the pot, Dad pulled out two mugs from a top cupboard, then poured the coffee into them. “You know where the creamer is.”

“Yep.” I grabbed it from the refrigerator, then poured it into the mug Dad had slid my way. “So, sit at the table?” It was where we’d always had our important discussions.

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