Page 9 of Threadbound

He especially didn’t take risks with relationships. He’d seen what happened, up close and very personally and painfully, if you rushed into a relationship without really getting to know the other person. His momma had wanted to provide a dad for Jamie—so she’d let Bill Eckel sweep her off her feet, marrying him less than three months after their first date. Jamie had no intention of ever rushing into things like that.

So it was probably good that the man who had so discombobulated him seemed to be completely ignorant of the fact that Jamie was gaping like he’d never seen anything like him before. Feeling his cheeks flush, Jamie forced his mouth to close and dragged his eyes back to the backing board to which he was supposed to be affixing various implements that had to do with amputation.

But he couldn’t help himself and kept stealing glances at the man as he moved through the exhibits. As he used long fingers to tuck a strand of dark hair behind one tapered ear. From where Jamie stood—or, rather, half-hid behind the partially built exhibit—his ear looked almost like it had a point. As the man paused to look up at one of the vertical timeline displays, his sharp jawline and long throat were offered up in profile to Jamie’s gaze. As he bent slightly, thumbs hooked in his pockets, to read a description written next to one of the trepanning tools,a small furrow creased his forehead in concentration. It made Jamie want to smooth the skin, preferably with his thumbs or possibly his lips.

It had never taken Jamie so long to attach a scalpel to a piece of painted plywood in his life. And he had two more and a saw yet to do, which was likely to take him another hour if the man didn’t leave the exhibit hall.

Not that Jamiewantedthe man to leave. What hewantedwas some reason or excuse to talk to him. To ask him if he had any questions—or, better yet, for the man to come over and simplyaskJamie some questions. Or even just say hello. Or a nod. A nod would be fine.

Jamie dropped a piece of wire.

On second thought, maybe it was better if he didn’t have to actually concentrate or think, since he didn’t seem to be capable of it at the moment.

Jamie forced himself to pick up the wire and stop staring.

He knew that one potential solution to his problem would be to take a risk—which he almostneverdid—and go up to the man and talk tohim. But that was completely contrary to everything in Jamie’s nature. He was passive. Mild-mannered. An introvert. A friendly introvert, but an introvert nonetheless. The very idea of walking up to a complete and very hot stranger was paralyzing.

Which, Jamie realized, was totally stupid since he walked up to complete strangers every day to ask them if they had any questions or to provide a little piece of information about whatever it was they were looking at. That was literally his job.

But even the thought of approaching this man gave him goosebumps.

And then the man walked out of the gallery, heading to some other part of the museum, and Jamie let out a long sigh. Maybe he’d ask Trixie to set him up on a date so he could get someof whatever this was out of his system. Because if he was this distracted by an attractive man just walking around the exhibit hall, clearly he had some sexual energy he needed to burn.

Chapter

Five

At his request, Trixie had taken Jamie out to one of her favorite mixed LGBTQ bars—one that catered to men, women, and nonbinary folks alike—to try to remedy his libido problem. It had been a veritable disaster. Not only had Jamie come up with at least three reasons why every single suggested candidate wasn’t good enough—or just wasn’t his type—but he’d also not been able to keep the guy from the museum out of his mind.

Every single man he saw in the bar was now held up to what was an impossible standard of male beauty, which was honestly weird because Jamie had never really been that fussy about the appearance of the guys he went out with. He’d dated tall guys, short guys, bigger and smaller guys, muscular and slender and heavy guys. Things like hair color, skin color, shape or size… they just weren’t as important to him as some sort of chemistry. An emotional or intellectual connection.

He was far more interested in guys who seemed fun or interesting, and didn’t really care much at all about body type. It meant he said yes to a lot of first dates and didn’t say yes to all that many second or third dates.

But he couldn’t get the guy from the museum out of his head.

Short, slender, graceful, and angular. Dark hair. Bone-china fine skin. And now every other man he looked at somehow had an unforgivable flaw in terms of appearance or body language. Or voice. Jamie had shot down at least four options Trixie pointed out just because of their laugh. Too snickery, too abrasive, too nasal, too fake. And that wasn’t counting the dozen others who had some other deal-breaking characteristic that would have been just fine—or even appealing—yesterday.

“What iswithyou?” Trixie had asked him, her expression both incredulous and a little annoyed.

Jamie had stared morosely into his beer. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I—” He broke off, having no idea how to answer her, then shook his head. “I don’t know,” he repeated. She was right. Usually he was all about working the room, seeing who was interested and who was interesting enough to arrange to meet again.

Lotsof first dates.

Trixie’s blue eyes were critical as she examined him, although Jamie’s attention was firmly focused on the amber liquid of his half-empty pint of beer, his face propped up on his hands.

“Are you okay, James?”

He sighed. “I thought so. There’s nothing I can think of that’s wrong with me, anyway. Other than the fact that I have no interest in anyone.”

“Except museum bloke.”

“Except museum bloke,” he agreed.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, although ‘silence’ was something of a misnomer, since while neither Trixie nor Jamie said anything, the crowded pub was plenty noisy, a combination of canned 1990s music and people’s voices all-but-shouting to be heard over everyone else.

“What about that one?” Trixie asked, having spotted someone new.

Jamie looked up halfheartedly. The guy was thin with dark hair, but that’s where his resemblance to the man from the museum ended. He was too tall, too slouchy, and his teeth were too big.

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