Page 16 of Finding Michael

“Thanks.” Tristan considered the coffee, then decided against a cup. Too much more and he’d float away. He strode over to the picture window and watched the scant traffic on the street. At home, the line of cars up and down the block never seemed to stop. Here, maybe two or three vehicles cruised the boulevard. Not fancy cars, either. Plain, dependable vehicles meant to get the passenger from point A to point B.

“Mr. Paulson?”

When Tristan turned, a man in his mid-thirties, with blond hair and dark eyes, smiled. His suit fit like a second skin and the scent of his cologne swirled around Tristan. He offered his hand. “I’m Jamie Meyer. Your uncle entrusted me with his estate planning.”

“Ah. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He shook hands with Jamie.Firm grip.When he met Jamie’s eyes, a shiver ran the length of his spine. Now Jamie was his type of guy—polished, proper and damn sexy. The opposite of Michael. He paused.Michael.Fuck. He’d been making eyes at Michael, but now that he’d seen Jamie, he wasn’t sure about his stance. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d gone right back to his old ways, that was what. Tristan regained his composure and followed Jamie into the second room.

“The documents are fairly simple.” Jamie sat behind his desk, then pushed papers toward Tristan. He read through the will. “Does that make sense? You’ve been given the house, property and everything contained within.”

Tristan glanced over the documents. Although he’d listened to everything Jamie had said, he still couldn’t believe it. His uncle had three hundred thousand dollars? He’d never imagined Al had kept such a stash of money.

“Per his wishes, he’s donated one-third to the school system, one-third to the library and the remaining third is to be used to found an LGBT center for Sullavan.” Jamie tapped the pages together. “Just sign and we’re set.”

“He wants me to found an LGBT center?” He didn’t know the first thing about founding a center. He knew how to balance his writing budget, but not well.

“Aldon thought it would be nice to have one here in town. He mentored some of the youth. You don’t understand how lonely it can be when you’re coming out and you’re not sure if your family will accept you,” Jamie said. “I know. I’m not from here. I came out to my parents and was thrown out of the house. I put myself through college and went to law school to help others.”

“Noble.” He sagged in his chair. Talking with Jamie brought up so many emotions. He’d been pushed aside by his family until his mother realized having a gay son made her more socially acceptable in her circles. Then he’d been included back into the will. Wouldn’t she have blown a gasket if she knew Al was working with the LGBT community in Sullavan? She’d have been here in a heartbeat to help—and get the publicity.

“We don’t have a huge LGBT community in Sullavan, but I’m sure there are plenty of kids in the cracks. That’s who Al tried to help. People thought he was cranky and reclusive. He wasn’t. He worked at the community center quite often.” Jamie closed the folder. “He worked closely with the library, too.”

“So I’ve heard.” Michael hadn’t told him about that. He’d have to make a point to discuss his uncle a second time.

“I’m willing to help you get the center up and running. I’ve got the addresses of a few buildings that would fit the requirements.” Jamie smiled and folded his hands. His tan looked even darker against his crisp white shirt cuffs.

“Thanks.” He could use all the help he could get. Michael would be a good resource, too. He’d have great insight and could give Tristan some direction.

“I see you’re a writer.” Jamie turned a copy ofSpringdalearound. “My secretary got me hooked on your work.”

Jamie didn’t strike him as a reader of his books. “Thank you.” He wasn’t sure what else to say. If the lawyer had the novel in hand, then why would he ask? Tristan’s picture was on the back.

“Is it hard? You know, writing a book? I draft legal documents all the time, but never books. I’ve thought about penning a novel.” Jamie stuck his hands in his pockets. “I’ve always wanted to pick the brain of an author.”

“Well, writing isn’t easy. It takes time, devotion and commitment. If the characters and plot are working and grooving, then you’ve got a good start. I have character sheets for each book and detailed plot points. But if that’s not working, then I end up spending a lot of time on social media or goofing off.” Usually fucking his boyfriend of the moment, too.

“Understood.”

He half expected Jamie to say he had an idea for a book and would Tristan give him pointers or his thoughts.

“Well, we’re done here. All you’ve got to do is sign the papers and you’re done. I’ve got the keys to the house and everything else. Here’s the bank information. It wasn’t stipulated whether you can keep the proceeds from the sale of his property. It’s yours to handle the way you choose. I’ll assume you’ll want to do a sale.” Jamie rocked on his heels. “Garage sales do well around here. Price stuff too high and people won’t bite.”

“Ah. I’ll look the items and property over before I decide, but I’ll probably have to get rid of some of it. I can’t use the woodworking tools in New York.” He scrawled his name on the pages, then pushed the document back to Jamie. “I don’t have the room, either.”

“I don’t suppose you do.” Jamie laughed, and the deep, throaty sound echoed in the room. “If you need help, I’m available most weekends.”

“Oh.” He hadn’t expected that. “Uh, I’ll let you know.” Why was he tongue-tied around Jamie? He thought this only happened with Michael. Maybe he wasn’t as attracted to Michael as he’d assumed? Or was he all-around nervous? Who knew? He wondered if he touched Jamie, would there be the same sizzle? He could test the theory, but not now. Doing so would be unprofessional. Besides…he wasn’t in Sullavan to find a man. He was there for his Uncle Al and the book.

“Great.” Jamie tucked the papers into the folder and pushed the ring of keys across the desk. “You’re set.”

“Thanks.” He tucked the documents and keys into his bag. “I should get going. I want to see the house. I haven’t been there in ages.”

Jamie rounded the desk and offered his hand to Tristan again. His eyes smoldered. “My numbers are in the folder. Don’t hesitate to contact me.” He held onto Tristan’s fingers for a long moment. Electricity sparked between him and Tristan.

“I won’t.” Tristan raked his gaze over Jamie. The man was handsome in a polished way. Not a blond hair out of place. No scruff and his skin glowed. He reminded Tristan of a model. His eyes sparkled and his smile came easy. He fit Tristan’s usual preferences for a guy—tall and lean and well-spoken. But he came off a little too polished. Then again, he could be hot in a T-shirt and jeans combo. If he cut loose on the weekends, he could be right up Tristan’s alley.

“Jamie, you have your next appointment here,” Sallie said. “How much longer will you be?”

Tristan froze. Where was she? Probably behind him.

---