Waking the Behr Page 2

  “Me? What I do for fun?”

  Yup, I sounded like I was loose a screw or two.

  Mitch smiled as if he found my reaction funny.

  “Uh, well, Con already told you about Stonewall. It’s not just a gay bar but more of an everybody bar.” I scratched my head as I thought. “Well, except women. Not a whole lot of them there. You have to go…”

  Yeah, right. Like Mitch was interested in where to go to pick up girls. Con was staring at me with a puzzled frown.

  “Uh, well, anyway. Um, I’m mostly a country boy. Even more than my brothers.” I shifted in my chair. My hands and feet felt too big and too in the way. “I like stuff like fishing, hunting, camping—stuff like that.”

  Mitch had brightened at my list and seemed to be sitting a little closer to me, maybe even leaning in.

  “You like to go camping?” He made it sound like a special treat to sleep outdoors. “How about canoeing or kayaking or rafting? Do you like those too?”

  “Are you kidding?” Con asked and snorted. “If you can do it outside, Ben’s your man. He’s done it all. And actually likes it. Right, Ben?”

  I nodded even though my face was getting hot. I didn’t know why I was blushing. I liked to do all of that stuff, as well as skiing, motocross, swimming, and a whole bunch of other stuff. Only outdoor activities I wasn’t partial to were birdwatching or counting wildlife. Those I left to people who didn’t like to get dirty.

  “Are you any good, Ben?”

  Mitch’s curiosity seemed odd. What the hell did he care? It wasn’t like we were going to bond or anything over any of it.

  Con butted in before I could answer. “I hate the outdoors, but if I had to go, I can’t think of a better person to be with.” Con’s compliment took me by surprise. “Ben knows the area around here like the back of his hand. He should take you out sometime. Then you’d see what I mean.”

  He stopped and shot me a fucking “got you” grin. But he wasn’t finished.

  “You know, if you’re going to be here this weekend, there’s a rally on Saturday. You could tag along as Ben’s navigator.” He turned to me with a twinkle in his eyes. “I’m sorry, bro, I can’t do it. I promised both Monique’s and the Bottom extra desserts ‘cuz this weekend’s supposed to be so busy for them.”

  Con’s smirk said “you can thank me later” even though he knew I probably wouldn’t be in the thanking mood.

  Mitch brightened and turned to me.

  “What’s a rally?”

  With a quick glare at Con, I explained it was a car competition of sorts. A race that wasn’t a race, exactly.

  In the back of my mind, I tried to figure out what Con was doing. He acted like he was setting me up on a date, but that couldn’t be right. Could it?

  Mitch stared at me for a few seconds, then at Con.

  “You know, I think I’d like to go with you, Ben. I’d like that a lot.” Finally he settled his gaze on me and grinned. “You’ve got a date.”

  Now I knew I’d turned brick red, and my ability to speak had left the building. What the fuck had just happened?

  * * * *

  We ate our pie, a pie Con, who’s a damn good pastry chef, had brought in with a bunch of other desserts. Bud, the Bottom’s owner, used to be the baker, but he’d hired Con when the cafe got so popular.

  “This is great,” Mitch growled, almost licking his plate. “You ever think about moving to the city, Connor, I’d hire you in a second for my dessert and music club.”

  My brother looked really interested, which took me by surprise since I thought he was happy here in Stone Acres.

  It took us a while to get out of the Bottom, what with the parade of people who stopped me to talk about construction projects or to be introduced to Mitch so they could ask about his ride.

  By the time we were ready to head back to town, I’d pretty much resigned myself to hanging on and praying that we got back safely. I could tell Mitch wanted to try his hand at guiding Rita down the foothills road.

  But he surprised me again as he tossed the keys my way after unlocking the doors.

  “Here you go. Get us back without scratching her if you can.” Then he looked at me and gave me a slow, sexy grin. “Prove your brother right about how trustworthy you are as a driver. My life is in your hands.”

  What could I say? I got us back to the construction company office in one piece.

  Chapter 3

  First thing the next morning, Mitch showed up at the Behr office and said he’d put in a bid for the steak house. He was pretty sure he’d be buying it, so he wanted us to know he’d be needing our services. He also wanted to find a good interior designer in Stone Acres.

  I hooked him up with Fredi Zimmer, our local legend, the guy who’d first made the town council realize its little straight-white-men Shangri-la was about to crumble.

  “My, my, my! Who have we here, Ben?” Fredi clung to Mitch’s handshake like he’d never let go.

  If Fredi weren’t married, I would have been worried about Mitch—or Fredi, I’m not sure which. As it was, I just smirked at Mitch’s startled look and, God help me, winked at the big guy. Now Mitch looked slightly amused, which made me break out laughing.

  When I got myself back together, I introduced them and left them to iron out the particulars of Mitch’s vision while I went back to work on other projects and finished some vital ordering.

  * * * *

  By midafternoon, I’d rocketed my way through my to-do list and was more or less caught up. My stomach was grumbling, and I was trying to figure out where to go for a late lunch.

  Just as I was deciding to walk over to the new sandwich shop, Mitch strolled into the office.

  “Let’s go eat. I’ve got to decompress after talking to Fredi. You should have warned me about his energy and his motormouth.”

  I snickered as Mitch gave me an evil glance.

  “Okay. This’ll make up for your whirlwind morning. I’ll take you to the café where Con’s the chief baker.”

  Mitch’s eyes lit up. “Yeah, it’s a deal. A piece of your brother’s pie or cake will definitely cheer me up if they’re as good as they were yesterday.”

  He bounced to his feet as my heart dropped. He perked up much too quickly when I mentioned Con’s name. It wasn’t fair. Mitch’d come over here to the office in an almost pissy mood, and the thought of my brother had brightened him up.

  Wait. Why the fuck did I care?

  Who knew?

  Life wasn’t playing fair. When Mitch threw off his downer, it had landed on me and squelched my excitement about eating with him.

  Monique’s Bakery and Café overflowed with a bunch of my friends and acquaintances. There went any hope that Mitch and I’d be sitting without interruption. Not only that, we’d driven up in Rita, which was like arriving on a parade float.

  As I answered questions about the car, Mitch hooked up with Con, and they were seated. When I looked, they were having an intimate discussion. Since I’d obviously been elevated in my friends’ eyes after getting out of Rita, I kept answering questions. Mitch and Con were sitting close together, their heads bent toward each other.

  “I’ll be in the city from this afternoon until Friday night,” I caught Mitch telling Con. Mitch reached into his shirt pocket and handed Con a card. “If you can get away, phone me and we’ll do something. I’ll give you a tour. We’ll talk.”

  I asked myself what I’d expected as I sat down. Con was an out-and-proud gay man who’d met a dynamic gay guy from the city. I was a fucking matchmaker was what I was. So why’d that depress me? I didn’t have a clue.

  “Sorry about that.” I waved a hand to the last guy I’d talked to. “Did you guys order yet?”

  Con jumped like I’d caught him doing something wrong.

  “Good to see you again, Mitch,” Con said and stood abruptly.

  They shook hands. Were they pretending I hadn’t just seen them conferring? Who the hell cared? Not me.

  “Hey, y
ou’re welcome to join us for lunch, Con. You have to eat, right?” I asked and nodded to the table.

  He gave me an odd look but sat down, still holding Mitch’s hand. When I eyed their handshake, it broke apart.

  “I thought we were going to talk about the remodel.” Mitch looked puzzled. His gaze searched my face as if I were up to something.

  “Oh, we can talk in front of Con. He may be a damn good baker now, but he’s always been a part of the construction business. Right, Con?”

  Con blushed and nodded, his eyes never leaving me.

  I didn’t know why both of them were being so cagey and watching me like I was the suspicious one. I hadn’t invited someone to come see him in San Francisco. I wasn’t the brother who seemed eager to get out of Stone Acres and tour the big city. I had nothing to hide.

  Mitch asked me questions about the remodel until our lunches were served. The three of us ate a few bites in silence. Why were we all so fucking jumpy? What was going on that I’d missed?

  My phone signaled a text. After a peek at the message, I got up, half of my lunch still uneaten. I was needed at a job site.

  “Look. I’ve got to go. Talk to you guys later.”

  I started to walk away, but Mitch called me back to the table.

  “Uh, Ben. I’ve gotta go to the city after lunch and won’t be back until late Friday night. Where and what time do I meet you for the rally on Saturday?” Mitch looked concerned, like he was letting me down or something.

  I turned. I really did need to go to the latest Behr Construction crisis. I didn’t have time to talk about the rally or Mitch or anything that confused me right now.

  “If you’re busy…”

  Mitch cut me off with a “No! I want to do the rally!”

  I shrugged. I’d given him an out. Wasn’t my fault he hadn’t taken it.

  “We start at eight thirty. Why don’t we meet at the construction office?”

  “Great! I’ll be there.” The pause was short enough that I hadn’t turned away. “What should I wear?”

  Given what I’d seen of his wardrobe, it was a valid question.

  “Do you own jeans, a T-shirt, and boots or cross-trainers?”

  He nodded happily, then rubbed his hands together. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

  More than anything, he acted like an overgrown kid who was being given a treat. Compared to most big guys, he would have looked silly, but Mitch’s delight made me happy.

  I hoped the rally didn’t turn into a disorganized mess like some of them did. Or worse, disintegrate into a shouting match at the end with everyone accusing everyone else of cheating. I’d been to too many of those get-togethers where I rode away disgusted instead of feeling exhilarated. I wanted Mitch to experience the heady sense of accomplishment that came from completing a challenge. I’d do what I could to see he got it.

  His pure joy at being included told me he wasn’t used to simple fun in his life. If nothing else, I could show him that.

  As I walked away, though, I glanced back and saw Mitch and Con leaning in toward each other again. Mitch gave a hearty burst of laughter as he looked up at me.

  I shook my head at my overwhelming wish to make him happy. Who was I kidding? Con was much more suited to give him pleasure. I was merely a good-old-boy diversion.

  Chapter 4

  Saturday dawned pure and sunny. Mitch showed up at the office in the newest pair of jeans I’d seen since grade school, when my big brother Abe bought me some so I wouldn’t have only hand-me-downs to wear.

  “Okay, Rita’s ready to go.” Mitch’s glee smacked me in the face.

  I wasn’t exactly sober, but I wasn’t hung over either. I’d just had almost one too many at Stonewall Saloon last night when I’d gotten into a debate about whether the Raiders were going to trounce the 49ers on Sunday. I loved to talk football, so it’d been a busy night for me.

  “Uh, Rita?” I looked from him to his car. “Where’s she going?”

  “The rally. She’s our ride. How else are we going to win?”

  I rolled my eyes at his exuberant sincerity. “I did tell you the rally isn’t a speed race, right?”

  He stared at me blankly but nodded.

  “It’s about precision, not how fast we get to the finish line. You’ve got that, right?”

  He nodded. “But, Ben, Rita’s got more electronics. So we’ll be more precise than your, uh, truck.”

  “Not necessarily. A rally is more about us and how well we work together than the machinery we’re using. Trust me.”

  He looked at me and then sorrowfully at Rita.

  “Rita can’t go? We can’t take her?”

  Oh, for God’s sake. How could I explain so he understood that my ten-year-old truck and his just-out-of-the-box Rita were the same as far as a rally was concerned?

  “Whatever. We’ll take your car, Mitch. I’m sure she’ll do fine.”

  He beamed at me.

  “I don’t think you’ll be disappointed, Ben.”

  Right. Why the hell did he look so adorable at getting his way? Or was that adorkable? Then I almost gagged. What? Had I turned into a preteen suddenly? I felt like an idiot.

  * * * *

  On a long, straight stretch of road, he groaned like I was stabbing him.

  “You gotta be kidding. Twenty fricking miles per hour? Really?” He looked over at me as I read the directions. I nodded. He flipped on the cruise control. “Okay, so now what do we do? Play cards?”

  I turned up the cool jazz he had played every time I’d been in this car.

  “Rita prefers jazz?” I asked.

  “Yeah. She’s got taste.”

  “She ever listen to country?”

  “Music? No. She’s sophisticated.”

  I nodded. Figured. Us unsophisticated barbarians weren’t smooth enough for her.

  He started fiddling with the station controls on the steering wheel and suddenly “I Will Always Love You,” a slow country ballad, filtered through the cab. When I began humming along, he glanced over at me.

  “You like this song?” he asked.

  “Yeah. It’s one of those you can dance to while you hug close to your baby and block out the rest of the world. You know?”

  “Oh yeah. I know.”

  I wondered from his soft, regretful tone what else this song might remind him of. I also wondered what it would be like to dance with a man. Would you get that same us-in-our-own-world feel? Or would you be fighting to see who got to control the steps and who could dominate the other?

  “This song remind you of anybody?” he asked me.

  “Not really. I don’t do relationships. Just mostly good times.” I sighed. “Abe says when I meet the right one, everything will change. But I don’t know. Stone Acres is a pretty small place, so the chance of running into the only girl in the world for me seems pretty thin.”

  “Also pretty exclusive. Maybe you should expand your options.”

  “Whaddaya mean?”

  He sat up straighter and looked at the control panel. “How many miles were we supposed to go on this road? Six?”

  I scanned the directions, and we were back in rally mode.

  Other than the fact that we were on the wrong road and had gone down it too many miles before we turned around, we did pretty well.

  * * * *

  When I told Abe and Con about our discussion, they both gave me similar grins.

  “Maybe Mitch was hinting that you’re leaving out fifty percent of the possibilities while you’re looking for your perfect match,” Con said.

  “Fifty percent? How so?”

  Abe huffed out an irritated sigh. “Fifty percent of the population, Ben. That’s what he meant.”

  “Fifty—oh, wait! You think he meant I should consider men too?”

  Connor laughed, and Abe frowned at me like I’d failed the easiest math test in the world. Damn, did I feel stupid.

  Men? Should I consider maybe my perfect match was a man?

 
They had to be kidding. Didn’t they?

  * * * *

  After the first rally, Mitch invited himself to another one, as well as to poker games and other places I went with the guys. He was slowly becoming one of the gang and my new best friend, sort of. We still had this thing between us, this thing that I couldn’t figure out for the life of me. But I liked having him hang around. It sure beat me having to ask him if he wanted to come along. This whole dating versus two guys hanging out business was just too confusing.

  Besides, Mitch was in town most of the time anyway to talk to Abe about the demo going on in the roadhouse. Abe was leading the project; I wasn’t involved after signing Mitch up.

  As per usual, all three of us had breakfast on the next race day. When we left, Mitch’s over-the-top excitement bounced off the walls and into me.

  He grabbed his to-go cup of coffee and gave me a quick bro hug after Abe went back to the office.

  “Okay. This is it. I can just feel it. We’re going to win and win big today,” Mitch crowed.

  I still hadn’t gotten the concept of “win” across to him. A rally “win” meant we traveled the course in exactly the same amount of time it had taken the rally master to run it. Not one second more or less. Rallying was a little like darts or archery. The closest one won.

  “Whatever, Mitch. We’re starting at the feed store today.”

  I wiped the sleep from my eyes and got into Rita. I read Mitch the first directions, and we were off.

  As we rounded a curve midmorning, some of the rally guys were standing around a dead deer in the road, looking down, talking, and shaking their heads.

  “If we stop, we’ll lose the race,” Mitch said in a neutral voice.

  “Yup. Why don’t you pull over there next to the Tacoma?”

  While he parked next to the truck, Mitch said, “What are we gonna do?”

  “Move the deer and clean up the mess.”