Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
If he only knew. This wasn’t a place where someone would spray paint a few slurs on his studio windows. In this town, someone would jump him out back and leave him broken and bleeding in the dirt. “Maybe you should be. If you’re gonna do this…” he said, waving a hand around the studio, “… you need to be aware of what could happen.”
Liam gave him another of those sad smiles. “And by this, you mean something so obviously gay, like being a guy opening a dance studio?”
Tate shut his mouth.
Sadness entered Liam’s eyes. “Tate, I came out when I was twelve. I’m twenty-five now. I have a lot of experience doing this. You don’t need to worry about me. I can handle myself.”
Frustration clawed at him. Couldn’t Liam understand the severity of the situation? Didn’t he get Tate was trying to protect him? “You don’t understand—”
“I understand more than you think, Tate.” Liam stepped back. “Now, Randy just tossed his cancer stick on the ground, so I assume he’s on his way back in. Your secret is safe with me. Always. From here on out, you’re nothing more than a guy coming to retile my very outdated locker rooms.”
The words should have sent relief coursing through him. Why did they bring an odd sense of disappointment? Maybe he should have grabbed some breakfast to go with his coffee.
He cleared his throat. “Thanks… Luxe.”
A look of surprise crossed Liam’s face, but it disappeared the second Randy walked back in. “Uh, sorry, Tate. Not sure what’s going on, but I didn’t see the hammer, er, tape measure in the trunk.”
Liam snorted.
Christ, Randy was a fuck-up.
“Thanks for looking, Randy.” He dug into his back pocket. “Sorry, looks like I sent you out there for nothing. I had it all along.”
“Well, huh, funny how that worked out.”
Liam pressed his lips together as though trying not to laugh. Or maybe sneer.
Randy hovered by the door, eyeing Liam like he had the plague. Tate rolled his eyes.
“C’mon,” Liam said, waving for them to follow. “I’ll take you to the locker room.”
Tate fell in step behind him. Randy could tag along if he wanted, and if he didn’t? No skin off Tate’s back.
“Oh, and straight boy?” Liam whirled around with a fancy ballet spin, spearing Randy with a flirty look. “Two things. First, you can come closer. I promise you all this fabulousness is not contagious.” He struck a pose, and Randy’s eyes practically fell out of his head.
Tate grinned. The man had balls along with all his elegance.
“And two, you’re not my type. I prefer my men strong and sexy.” With that, he turned and walked, no strutted, into the locker room, leaving Tate and Randy to trail behind him.
Randy stood at the door, mouth hanging open. “Did he just say I’m not sexy?”
Tate burst out laughing. His admiration for Liam grew tenfold. He was brave, fiery, and proud in a way Tate could never be.
But would all that bravery serve him well or get him hurt?
CHAPTER FIVE
“COME ON, STAY closed already,” Liam muttered as he jumped up and used his body weight to help close his full trunk. His car was busting at the seams with everything from cleaning supplies to promotional materials to DIY repair materials—all things he’d need for the grand opening, which would happen in exactly fourteen days.
Work on the locker rooms was scheduled to begin tomorrow. He had no idea if Tate and that Randy guy would show up to complete the work or if a different crew would, but they planned to demolish the old tiles while they waited for the order of new tiles to arrive. When all was said and done, the locker rooms would be comfortable, modern, and spacious—exactly what he wanted.
Of course, nothing would happen if he got stuck in the parking lot of the Tulsa Office Max because his trunk wouldn’t close.
“Freaking close already,” he shouted with a growl as he jumped again. This time, when he came down, practically sitting on the trunk lid, it clicked as the latch caught. “Ha!” He brushed his hands off, then waved to a woman, giving him some serious side-eye. “Good morning.”
She smiled but didn’t return the greeting. Not that he blamed her. He probably looked crazy, talking to himself and slamming on his car.
Liam had gotten an early start that morning, hitting up every store on his list before noon. Now that those tasks were completed, the rest of the day was his to do with as he pleased. He planned to head back to Swan to start setting up the studio’s lobby and merchandise display, but first, he deserved to treat himself to a snack.
About a mile back, he’d passed a trendy coffee shop and had been dreaming of an iced caramel latte ever since. He hopped in his overstuffed Jetta and zipped down the road toward the delicious promise of icy sugar and caffeine.