Page 76 of Smoky Mountain Dreams
Isn’t love kind, Gran? Didn’t you saythe fruits of the spirit of Christ are—
Stop using my religion against me, youngman. He hurt my baby and I don’t have to forgive him for that.
Christopher was pretty sure her words in his head meant hewasn’t ready to truly forgive Gareth either. So maybe it would be okay to feedhis ego a little—hear about how great he’d been in bed and how very deeplyGareth regretted walking away and now wanted him back.
“Christopher, I heard something from Darla and I think it’sprobably true.” Gareth stared with those wounded, tortured eyes that had done anumber on Christopher last summer. What had ever made him think a kiss would bea good way to wipe that look away? It hadn’t. And neither had the blow job, orthe fuck, or anything else. But there was something so compelling in that hurtthat Christopher would’ve been willing to keep on trying anyway he could. IfGareth had wanted that too.
“What did you hear from Darla?” Christopher asked, eventhough he knew exactly what it was.
“I heard you’ve been seeing that Jesse Birch fellow. Thewealthy one. With the wife that was in that wreck.”
“Gareth—”
“Hold on now. Let me finish. Holly says you’re not with him,but I saw you two together last weekend with my own eyes and I saw how helooked at you. Pissed me off right hard to think of him having you. So maybethat makes me a dick and a half—”
“Uh, yeah.”
“But I realized I can’t wait much longer to get over myselfand see if there’s a way we can try again.” He reached down into the dirtycanvas sack he carried around and pulled out an iron rose.
Gran! Oh my God, do you see this?
Sure do, and ain’t he just apredictable, angry dumbass?
“I made this for you.” Gareth held it out. When Christopherdidn’t reach out to take it, he laid it flat on the table between them. “Tookme my entire day off this week, but it was worth it. The petals were hard tomake look delicate like that, but I just kept thinking about your face andmouth, and the way you look so sweet, but then in bed you’re wild and hard andstrong.” He touched the iron flower and smiled sweetly at Christopher, cockinghis head, his eyes going soft. “Tell me you’ve had it better before or sinceand I’ll leave you alone.”
Christopher had long since swallowed his food, and he staredat Gareth’s finger tracing the iron rose, the tattoo on his index finger—asmall, running wolf between his second and third knuckle—and shivered as heremembered the night they’d spent together. Then he thought of the recent sexhe’d had with Jesse, and the emotions that made it all that much better betweenthem.
Yes, Christopher’s body might react to Gareth’s woundedeyes, his thick beard that had scratched so nicely when they’d kissed, and theshameless way he’d been in bed, but lust wasn’t enough. Christopher could neverseriously be with a man who had treated him as carelessly as Gareth had. Notwhen he had so much more with Jesse.
“Gareth, the rose is beautiful.”
Gareth’s face flushed with pleasure and he reached out totake hold of Christopher’s hand, but Christopher pulled it away.
“I’m seeing Jesse Birch and it’s…we’re exclusive now. Butwhat really matters is that even if Jesse wasn’t in the picture, I’m notinterested in you, Gareth. I’m sorry. I can’t accept your gift.”
Gareth lowered his head like he was trying to hide his reactionfrom Christopher. Finally, he looked up and said, “Well, he’s rich and I’mpoor. I guess I understand why you’d hate to walk away from a meal ticket likethat.”
Christopher bit his inner cheek, a flash of the anger he’dhad for Gareth for months now pulsing through him. “I’m not going to dignifythat with a response.”
Gareth blinked, surprised. “I didn’t mean anything bad. Ijust meant—”
Christopher stood, picked up his plates, and said, “I’ve gota show to do in forty minutes and hopefully a date with my boyfriend thisafternoon. You can think whatever you want about any of that. I’m sorry to hurtyour feelings, but the answer is no. And it would be no if Jesse was homelessand sleeping on my couch.”
“He’s got kids,” Gareth said, slowly. “You’re good withkids. You’d make a good father.”
Christopher paused a moment and considered Brigid’s coldgaze and the spit in his ice cream float. “Thanks, Gareth. I’m sorry it endedlike this.”
“Good luck, Christopher. I hope he makes you happy.”
I hope so too,Christopherthought as he hurried to get ready for the first show of the day.
Jesse shook with rage. He could barely breathe, and heslammed his hands against the steering wheel over and over until heaccidentally honked the horn, shocking himself into quiet. He shook his handsout, not caring if there might be bruising, though it would make his workharder if his fingers swelled at all.
“Fuck her,” he grit out between his teeth. “Fuck thatfucking bitch.”
Mediation was supposed tohelpthis situation, but it only ever left him so angry that he couldn’t seestraight. He’d lost it in the middle of the meeting and shouted, “What do younot understand about your religious beliefs having no bearingwhatsoeveron what your sister wanted?”
Ronnie always knew how to push his buttons. She’d tell himshe was going to pray for him—that she’d have her entirechurchpray for him. She’d explain that Godwantedher tohave this kind of control over her sister’s life and death, otherwise He’d havemade Marcy act to change her Healthcare Power of Attorney after her marriage,instead of leaving the decisions in the hands of her sister.
