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Sorry. Anything romantic between us isn’t possible. Can we stay friends?
Lyon hissed in his ear. “Sing.”
Darcy folded his arms at his broad chest as if preparing for Bennet to come to life on the stage.
Bennet couldn’t move. He brought the microphone to his lips, and it crackled with his shaky first lines.
He didn’t look away from Darcy, and Darcy didn’t look away from him.
The lyrics beat to the rhythm of his heart, and his projection grew more confident. Each line became something he gave life to. Something he meant, like he’d never meant anything before.
Lyon sang along with him, but it was not Lyon he was singing to.
He sang to the brightest man he’d ever had lighting up his life.
Tender scuttles raced up his spine, and he was drunk on it. Embarrassing, he’d once told Darcy. No better way to scare a man off.
He’d called it one-sided and painful, and maybe it was. But here he was, serenading Darcy like everything in his life depended on it. And those deep eyes didn’t once look away.
The last words tumbled softly off his tongue, and the unusually quiet crowd remained silent for one beat, two—
Clapping and cheering deafened his ears, breaking his reverie. A hand tapped his ankle, a mother he recognized from Lyon’s school. “That was lovely.”
Flushed, Bennet turned and found Lyon tapping furiously away at his phone. Typical teen. Before Bennet could make his way nervously to Darcy, Wiremu stopped him.
“Beautiful voice. I hope you jump up a couple more times tonight.”
“Maybe, I’ve got to—”
“Charlie said he’ll be arriving early tomorrow to help with Cubworthy Pride. I know it’s only been a week, but I already miss my son.”
“We hope you’ll join the celebrations.”
“I’ll be leading the pack, don’t you worry about that. If there’s anything else I can do . . .”
“There’s been a slight change in start venue,” Bennet said. “Could you be at the hall tomorrow and redirect?”
“You bet. What’s the location?”
Bennet told him, then politely broke off the conversation.
He wove through the crowd, but Darcy wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
Baffled, Bennet headed back to the bar, where his nachos had been delivered. He played with a chip, dipping it in the guacamole, still scanning the pub—
The front door opened and Darcy strode in, raindrops dripping from his hair. He perched himself on Lyon’s stool, then stood. Crossed his arms. Dropped them.
The pine-scented heat rolling off Darcy was intoxicating; the chip between Bennet’s fingertips cracked and fell to the plate. “I have to go.” Bennet swiveled toward him and lifted a questioning brow.
“I’ve just got some news.”
“Something to do with your case?”
“Something else. I have to race back to Port Ratapu to . . . help someone I care about.”
Bennet gripped the seat of his stool. “Of course.”
“I’ll be back.” Darcy ran a hand through his hair. “We need to talk. In person.”
Their eyes met and held. Bennet swallowed thickly. “Go help your someone and then we’ll talk.”
Darcy inclined his head. “See you soon, Bennet.”
“Drive safely.”
He left with purposeful steps, and Bennet failed to calm the nervous lurching in his chest.
A southerly wind blew in the scents of hide and manure from neighboring paddocks. Bennet breathed in the scent of the country as he walked the main street to the rendezvous point. The greenhouse.
It’d been Lyon’s suggestion, and it was perfect. Enough grassy area to hold a large crowd, close to the main street, and the weather forecast predicted sun. No stuffy hall necessary. They would enjoy a lovely day of celebrating Pride outside.
The lesbian couple who’d offered their help were already there, setting up grills, and he went and thanked them. Dressed in a matching T-shirt and shorts, rainbows painted on his face, Lyon went from the greenhouse to the town hall and helped show supporters to their new location.
Bennet greeted everyone and laid out the general plan. Helped with meat and drinks deliveries, made sure the portable toilet hidden behind bushes was in good shape, and talked songs with the band.
Cheers came from a half-dozen women crowded near the caravan library. Bennet finished chatting logistics to Charlie, who’d been his right-hand man all morning, and wandered over curiously.
He blinked in the grand sight of two long floats and people pouring out of the cars towing them.
Catching sight of Henry, Bennet’s heart jumped into his throat.
Henry, seeing him, waved joyfully and sauntered over. “There’s close to a dozen of us. Me and Cameron, Lake and Knight, Harry and Martin, West and Josh, Cameron’s brother Brandon and Olivia. Dad was trying to hunt down some guy called Finley too, but he’s vacationing with his partner. Anyway, Dad was right behind us, he should be here any minute.”
Bennet didn’t know how to respond. Everything felt fuzzy, like he had to be dreaming this.
“I’m ecstatic something like this is happening here,” Henry continued. “Fond memories of Cubworthy.”
