Page 46 of The Key Holder

“Oh? Are you two going to look at my hole?”

River choked on his own spit, coughing and wheezing until he caught his breath. Dylan handed him a glass of water and apologized, explaining, “It’s my bedroom that was damaged.”

River hadn’t moved, accepting the glass and taking a sip. “Thank you.” He seemed to remember I was standing there with them because he finally acknowledged me with a question. “You fellas stay up here often?”

"Dylan's just here for the summer," I said, the words coming out more possessive than I intended. "He's helping me with the cabin."

Dylan shot me a quick glance, a flicker of something flared in his expression. It was hard to tell if he was annoyed or amused. I wanted so badly to say something, to do something, but now wasn’t the time.

He returned his attention to River. "It's a beautiful cabin, though. Perfect for getting away from…everything." He let the last word hang in the air, a subtle invitation.

"It is that," River agreed, his eyes still fixed on Dylan. "Lots of beautiful things up here. You know…if you ever need company." He winked.

That was it. I couldn't stand it anymore. Even the subtle suggestion that Dylan was available to another man had me seeing red. Everything about this scenario felt like a direct challenge to my desires, and I couldn’t tell which way Dylan wanted things to go, which made it even worse.

The mixture of anger at the situation and embarrassment at how much of an ass I knew I was being fought inside me for dominance. But the thought of it, of anyone else looking at him like that, talking to him like that, made my heart race.

Anger won.

"River," I said, my voice sharper this time, cutting through the easy banter. "Time is money. Let’s go look at the interior and then you can give me a concrete timeline."

River finally tore his attention away from Dylan, his smile fading slightly as he registered my current mood. "Right, right. Of course, Ford. Lead the way."

“After you.” I motioned to him before following behind. When Dylan stepped forward to come with us, I reined back my anger and in as gentle a voice I could manage said, “Please stay here.”

Again, our eyes met, and despite the almost-tender tone in my request, he knew—with just one look—how close I was to the edge, the imperceptible shift in my posture, the tightening of my jaw.

Without a word, he nodded and returned to leaning against the counter. I imagined he was torn between a perverse satisfaction at my overreaction, and what I hoped to be true, a genuine discomfort with River’s flirtations and a desire for me to end the situation.

In the moment, I chose words, even though my body wanted action.

Seeing the tremble in his lips made it that much harder to leave the room, but the sooner River was done looking at the damage, the sooner he would leave.

River was busy looking at the ceiling, taking photos, and scribbling notes when I joined him. As soon as he realized we were alone, he leaned in conspiratorially and said, “Friends, my ass.”

I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but he must’ve seen my expression because he continued.

“Ford, my friend, I have a feeling you’ll be thanking me when I return. If your feelings for each other were unclear before today, I don’t think they are anymore.”

“Y-yeah.”

“You better do something about it, handsome, before someone not as nice as me comes along and snatches that little snack right off your plate.”

“Y-you’re helping me?”

The howl of laughter that erupted from River made me almost jump across the room. Another clap on the back, followed by a hearty squeeze. “He likes you,” he whispered. “He knew what he was doing when he flirted with me. Trust me.”

How could a relative stranger see something so easily? I had been trying to figure out Dylan’s feelings for weeks.

"So, what do you think, Ford?" River asked, raising his voice as he made his way back into the kitchen. "Me and my crew could probably start at the beginning of next week. Rainbow Beams should have everything we need."

“Rainbow Beams?” I asked.

“Local gay-owned lumber yard. It’s where I get all my wood.”

Even I had to laugh a little at that comment. “That sounds good,” I said, my tone lighter, as I tried to process that River had been performing to…help us?

That was all well and good, but one glance at Dylan, who had finally looked at me, told me nothing. His expression was unreadable.