Page 67 of One Chance to Stay
He shrugged. “It’ll give you time to not disappoint.”
I fell back on the pillow. Seamus had upped the stakes. I thought the benefit of seeing an older man would be keeping things simple. Though now I wondered what he had planned athis place? Knowing him, it probably involved shoveling snow or fixing the barn. He’d make me do chores, and yet,Iwas expected to not disappoint. Not fair.
“Have a good day,” I said.
He stopped with his hand on the door. He turned so I could see the smile on his face. “You, too.”
He left, and I turned onto my side, burying my face in his pillow. The scent of him lingered. It lacked any perfume or lotions. What remained… earth, musk, and a hint of vanilla. I’d say it was weird, but my growing erection said otherwise. Now, I just needed to brainstorm the perfect date for a recluse. Easier said than done.
I’d figure it out after a few more hours of sleep.
THE LEGEND OF BEATRICE
Walter: Son, that is how you end a wedding.
Audrey: Thank you for coming. I had a lovely time.
Harvey: Asking for a friend, is Mabel single?
Walter: She’s too much woman for you.
Harvey: I like a challenge.
Audrey: This is going to end poorly.
Walter: But it’ll be fun to watch.
I turned off the car and took inventory as I got out. No boots. No ski pants. Wool socks. No hat. I remembered to put on a hoodie under my jacket. I’d give myself a C- on preparedness. Next time I visit Firefly, I’d be sure to come with survival gear.
The message had been clear: “Dress warm.” At least I tried.
To my surprise, it wasn’t Seamus standing on the porch. My cranky old man had been replaced by a… similar old man.
“Abraham, what are you doing here?” I was more surprised that somebody other than Grace appeared. Had he come of his own volition? Did he force his way into Seamus’s life? Had I opened the floodgates, and now all of Firefly would show up with baked goods and casseroles?
“Seamus invited me.”
No. I’d have believed a portal opened in time and space, bringing him here before I accepted that Seamus invited a person to his house. For a moment, I worried something horrible had happened.
“Where is he?”
“Setting up targets.”
“Targets?”
Abraham meandered down the steps and followed a shoveled path around the house. I followed, amazed by how much work would be required to shovel all this snow. I hoped Seamus had a snowblower, though knowing him, he’d say shoveling built character.
Oh.Targets. Seamus had set up a row of tin cans along the top of a wooden fence. It reminded me of sleepovers at Tommy Sickler’s when we’d take his BB gun and shoot bottles. At least, we did before his father caught us, and I got grounded for a week.
The leather strap across Seamus’s chest didn’t hold a BB gun. He traipsed through the snow, boots sinking shin-deep with each step.
“Is that a real gun?”
Abraham laughed. “We could find a toy if that makes you more comfortable.”
Great. I’d have to get grief from two men. This already went down as the weirdest date of my life. I’m sure there are plenty of guys sitting at my bar who would see this threesome as a dream come true. Guns included.
“You’re here.”
