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CHAPTER1
CLARK
Hunter Rhodes was a walkingwet dream.
His chiseled jawline had just the right amount of stubble to look sexy without sliding into scruffy. His sandy hair glinted with gold highlights under the overhead lighting. Even the crow’s feet around his eyes added to his attractiveness as he smiled down at his son.
So. Hot.
I should have let the man move on about his business without ogling him—I didn’t doubt he got more than enough attention wherever he went—but I was a gay man in the midst of a very long dry spell. My gaze slipped lower to broad shoulders, corded forearms, and big, strong hands. The idea of them touching my skin sent a shiver through me despite the furnace working overtime to heat the high school gym.
The crowd meandering through the community book fair I’d helped organize in the wake of losing our only bookstore in town faded away as I drank him in wistfully. There wasn’t a universe in which I’d be in Hunter’s league, even if he did swing my way. Which, by all accounts—and his marriage history—he did not.
Probably. I mean, there were always a few closet cases…
Snap.
I blinked and jerked back as Augustus’s fingers nearly clipped my nose.
His boyfriend, Joe—who was my friend first but seemed to have forgotten that fact during his honeymoon period—chuckled. “Someone’s got a crush.”
“Pfft, no,” I denied as heat rushed to my cheeks.
“Well, that’s odd, because there’s drool dripping down your face,” Augustus teased.
I glared. “Well, that’s nothing compared to the fuck-me eyes you had for Joe last month.”
“Just last month?” Joe asked with an exaggerated pout.
“Babe, I’ll always have fuck-me eyes for you.”
Ugh.New couples. They were the worst, waving around their happiness like it was a cupcake that the rest of us could go to the bakery to order. My last attempt had been less sweet frosting and more sour grapes by the time we parted. But I counted myself lucky. After watching my friend Alexa chase love into a life-shattering bad decision, I’d sworn off the whole thing.
I was married to my work anyway. Take this book fair, for example. It was doing a whole lot more good than sleeping with Devon Trager in college ever had—especially since he’d messed around with my roommate behind my back.
I returned my attention to the display of high-school level books I was arranging, intermingling classics like1984by George Orwell andThe Bell Jarby Sylvia Plath with contemporary novels by Cassandra Clare, John Green, and Maggie Stiefvater. Front and center I placed one of my favorite books:Flowers for Algernon.
It was a fitting metaphor for my life. The idea that once you know some things, you can neverunknowthem and they can color your perception of the world and everyone in it in irreversible ways.
A year and a half after returning to Granville, I was still wishing I could forget my brief attempt at city life. Omaha wasn’t all that far from home, and yet it felt as if a whole other lifetime had passed there.
For the next few minutes, I was saved from Augustus and Joe’s displays of affection as customers began to browse through the books at my table. A few of my students stopped by to say hello, including Malcolm Kraft, who stammered and blushed his way through telling me how much he loved the book fair and how amazing I was for organizing it.
Of course, two friends from my bar trivia team, Beckett Monroe and Wes Potter, were right behind him.
“Dude, I know you’re hard up,” Wes said once Malcolm had moved on, “but I don’t think you’re supposed to date students.”
I cringed, even though he was kidding. “I would never do that.”
“Does the kid know that?” Beckett asked with a snort.
Joe frowned. “Don’t even joke, guys. That shit can get teachers in a world of trouble.”
“I have three cardinal rules when it comes to teaching,” I said. “1. Don’t date a student. 2. Don’t date a parent.”
“And three?”
“Never invite you two to a school event.”
