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A tall, slender frame moved in Jackson’s peripheral vision, and he snapped his head up, stupidly hoping to catch a glimpse of Wyatt. But the man was blond, wore skintight leather pants, and a bit too much eye makeup for Jackson’s taste. A bear of a man in a fringed suede jacket swooped in, and the pair moved off together.
Lucky them.
“Your beer looks a little low,” a deep voice said. “How about a fresh one?”
A beer glass with a good head on it appeared next to Jackson’s almost empty one, and he followed the tan hand that had put it there up to a smiling, bearded face. Not a thick bear beard, but neatly trimmed close to the skin and nothing on his upper lip. Past it was a pair of dark eyes crinkled at the corners, and light brown hair swept up in a fancy style that had probably taken quite a bit of product to keep that way.
Cute, appealing, with a slender body Jackson took a moment to appreciate. “Thanks,” he said. And out of sheer politeness added, “Join me?”
“Thank you.” He pulled out a chair and sat opposite Jackson, his own beer in one hand. No hat or leather jacket, just casual clothes, and his voice didn’t have the familiar lilt of someone from around the area. “If I’m disturbing your solitude, tell me to buzz off. I just usually feel awkward drinking alone when I’m new to the area.”
“The county or Texas in general?”
“What gave me away? The lack of boots and chaps?”
Jackson smiled. “Mostly the accent. Name’s Jackson.”
“First or last name?”
“Could be both. You got either?”
“I’m Drew Banner. Do I get extra points for having two names?”
Amused by Drew’s easy sense of humor, Jackson said, “Sumner. Jackson Sumner.”
“Nice to meet you.”
They shook hands across the table like two men starting a business meeting. Jackson didn’t feel a thing from the touch, and while Drew was easy enough on the eyes, he wasn’t turning Jackson’s crank at all. His hair wasn’t red enough.
“So where are you from if not from Texas?” Jackson asked.
“Relocated to this area from Denver for my job. I’m still getting used to small-town life after growing up in or around a city. It’s not easy to, ah, find folks with similar interests.”
“True story. Makes this place pretty popular if you live within a fifty-mile radius. It’s private and people mind their business.”
“I see the appeal.” Drew made a show of cruising Jackson, who’d remained in his comfortable, slightly slouched position. “To borrow on a tired cliché, do you come here often?”
“Once in a while. Depends on my mood. If I just want a beer, there’s three bars a hell of a lot closer to where I live.”
“Which is where?”
“Not too far, and not too near.” He’d kicked back more than a few at the Roost after work, both alone and with his coworkers, but he almost never found a guy to take home there. It was a locals’ place and not great for cruising, unless he wanted his night to end in a fistfight with drunken homophobes.
“A man of mystery. I don’t suppose you’re secretly a spy, Mr. Sumner? Jackson Sumner?”
“If I was a spy, would I tell you I was?” Jackson was enjoying the banter, even if the guy himself left Jackson cold in the attraction front. But Drew was a great distraction from his Wyatt problem. He sipped his new, much colder beer. “So what kind of job drew you away from the city and into our quiet little county?”
“Would you believe me if I said I’m a minister and am taking over from Pastor Ross at the Protestant church in Weston?”
Jackson blinked, uncertain if he believed Drew or not. But the guy seemed perfectly serious, and Jackson had certainly heard stranger things in his days. “You do realize you’re in a gay bar, right, pastor?”
“A gay bar forty miles from town. My beliefs can coexist with my sexuality. It isn’t always easy, but it’s worth it if I can change minds and help folks accept that gay is normal and we’re all loved by God.”
“I can understand wanting to do that but why pick a small town like Weston? Wouldn’t you have a better audience for those teachings in a city church?”
“Probably, but Warren Ross is my great-uncle, and he asked me to step in when he retires at the end of the month. I don’t have a lot of blood family who still talk to me but he does, so I couldn’t say no.”
“Good luck, then.”
