Chapter Twenty-Three
The Drover family farm was even more absurdly picturesque and charming than Troy had imagined. The long road took them past snow-laden apple trees until they reached a perfect white farmhouse.
“Are you nervous?” Harris asked as they parked the truck.
“No,” Troy lied.
“Good. They’ll love you. Just wait.”
They both got out of the truck, and Troy immediately heard barking.
“Uh-oh,” Harris said cheerfully. “Here they come.”
Several dogs of various sizes were running toward them, barking excitedly. Troy took a step back, but his back hit the side of the truck, leaving him trapped between hard metal and a tornado of dogs. Because of course they’d all made a beeline for Troy.
“Aw, come on, guys. You’re embarrassing me,” Harris laughed. He whistled and two of the dogs immediately went to him, leaving Troy with one very large dog pinning him against the truck with its paws on his stomach.
“Uh, hi,” Troy said. He realized that he had his hands in the air, as if he were surrendering. He lowered them slightly.
“Mac, you too. Get off of him, you demon.” Harris smacked his thigh, which got Mac’s attention. After a moment’s consideration, Mac seemed to decide he preferred freaking Troy out to hanging with Harris.
“Okay,” Troy said slowly. “Um...down?”
“Just start walking,” Harris said. “He’ll move.”
Troy took a step forward, and Mac dropped to all fours and wiggled between Troy’s legs.
“Mac’s the problem child,” Harris said, then knelt to scratch Mac’s head. “The little one is Shannon, and the white one is Bowser. They’re total sweethearts. Not like this boner.” Harris said the last part in an affectionate voice directed at Mac.
“Harris, don’t make your friend stand in the cold all afternoon!” The voice came from the house, and Troy turned to see a woman who must be Harris’s mother standing in the open door.
“We’re coming,” Harris said. He started walking toward the house, then stopped and said, “Shit! The pie.”
As Harris jogged back to the truck to retrieve the pie he’d made, his mom beckoned for Troy to come inside.
“I’m Marlene,” she said, extending her hand as Troy reached the top of the steps to the front veranda.
“Troy,” he said, shaking her hand. She had silver hair cut into a shoulder-length bob, dark-rimmed glasses, and the same compact build as her son. She was even wearing a plaid flannel shirt. She looked pretty hip, actually. Like a celebrated farm-to-table restaurateur.
“I’m glad to finally meet you,” she said as they went inside. “Harris has been talking you up.”
“Mom.” Harris groaned as he followed them with the pie and all three dogs.
Troy’s stomach flipped at the thought of Harris saying anything about him to his parents. It was touching and terrifying at the same time.
“He talks a lot,” Troy said, then realized it sounded more like a complaint than a gentle ribbing.
“I mean, he’s friendly.” Then he realized he was talking about Harris as if he wasn’t there.
“You’re friendly. And chatty. So I’m not surprised that you were talking about me.
” He could feel the back of his neck heating as Harris and Marlene stared at him.
“I can take that pie...somewhere...for you?”
Harris burst out laughing. “Glad you’re not nervous.”
The heat crept around from Troy’s neck to his face. “Sorry.” Excellent. He’d been here a few minutes and had basically cowered away from one of their dogs, then babbled some nonsense about Harris being chatty. Great first impression.
Troy glanced around at the old house that was obviously packed with family history and pride. It was so homey and pleasant and unfamiliar that Troy felt an urge to cast himself out into the cold like a monster.
“Is that Harris?” a new voice asked.
A man stepped into the front entrance from an adjacent room who looked a lot like an older version of Harris. The same eyes, the same full beard and thick hair, but both mostly gray, and the same warm smile and booming voice. The biggest difference was that he was several inches taller than Troy.
“You must be Troy. I’m Sam.”
They shook hands. “Thank you guys for having me. I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in a long time.”
“It’s been a long time since Harris has brought someone home that he’s sweet on,” Marlene said. Troy’s stomach fluttered.
“Oh my god, Mom. Way to make Troy think we live in the thirties or something.”
Marlene laughed. “Make yourself at home. We’ve got a fire going in the living room. That’s why the dogs are already back in there.” And that seemed to be the end of the Troy-is-gay-and-dating-Harris conversation. It had been barely anything, and Troy felt almost giddy.
“You saying you’re not sweet on me?” Troy murmured into Harris’s ear as they walked into the kitchen.
“You’re the bee’s knees, sweetheart.”
The kitchen was surprisingly large and smelled amazing. Harris set his pie on the counter and said, “Want something to drink?”
“Whatever you’re having.”
Harris opened the fridge and grabbed two bottles of his sisters’ cider, then handed one to Troy. “Maybe this will take the edge off.”
“I’m fine,” Troy said, though it was another lie.
He was trying very hard to ignore how surreal this all felt.
His relationship with Adrian had been based on a mutual fear of discovery.
They had certainly never met each other’s families.
It hadn’t even been discussed. He wasn’t quite sure what he was doing with Harris, but he knew he didn’t want the same sort of arrangement he’d had with Adrian.
He wanted to get to know Harris’s family, and he wanted them to like him.
Which was a lot.
“Wanna see my old bedroom?” Harris asked, waggling his eyebrows.
Troy managed a half smile. “Are you allowed to have boys up there?”
Harris took a step toward him. “You’d be the first one.”
Oh. “Really?”
“Yeah. Wanna see it?”
Hell yes, Troy did.
Troy Barrett was in Harris’s childhood bedroom, sitting on his old, creaky twin bed, and Harris was trying very hard to be cool about it.
“This is a lot of Ottawa Centaurs stuff,” Troy observed.
He wasn’t lying. There were posters, pennants, and knickknacks everywhere. Harris had hockey cards shoved in the frame of his mirror. Even the bedside lamp had a Centaurs branded shade.
“I was a bit of a fan.”
“I’m a little concerned. This feels like you might have lured me up here to add to your collection.”
Harris grinned. “I was thinking about chaining you to my bed.”
Troy’s lips curved up. “This bed?” He bounced a couple of times, making it squeak loudly. “I think the detectives would find me.”
“Stop bouncing!” Harris hissed. “Mom and Dad will think we’re doing it!”
“Like this?” Troy bounced some more.
“Oh my god.” Harris lunged at him, and seconds later he had Troy pinned on his back and was sprawled on top of him.
“Be awkward if they walked in right now,” Troy said. Their lips were so close together that Harris could feel his breath tickle.
“We should get up, probably,” Harris murmured.
“Mm.” Then they were kissing. Harris had probably started it, but Troy was definitely into it, kissing Harris in that slow, exploratory way that absolutely melted Harris every time.
There was a loud crash behind them, which broke them apart.
“What the hell?” Troy asked.
“Uncle Elroy,” Harris said, dipping his head for another kiss.
Troy sat up, nearly knocking Harris to the floor. “Fuck off. It’s not a fucking ghost. What was it really?”
Harris glanced behind his shoulder and spotted the culprit on top of his dresser. “Ursula.”
“Who’s Ursula? The ghost of your great-grandmother?”
Harris laughed. “The cat. She was probably under the bed.”
Ursula swished her enormous fluffy tail and knocked a hairbrush to the floor.
“Oh,” Troy said. “And how many cats do you have? Eight?”
“Nope. Just one. If she treats you like garbage, don’t be offended. She’s not into people.”
“That makes two of us, Ursula.”
Harris shifted off Troy and sat on the edge of the bed. Troy moved to sit beside him.
“This seems like an okay house to grow up in,” Troy said.
“It was the best.”
“It would be nice, out here in the country, I think. I grew up in the suburbs of Vancouver.”
“I like being downtown, but I miss the quiet sometimes,” Harris said.
“I’ll probably move back here someday. Not to this house, exactly.
I mean, I don’t think so. Anna and Margot built the cidery on the west side of the orchard, and they more or less run the farm now.
I assume one of them will get the house eventually.
It’s been in the family for four generations so far.
I’m glad my sisters are passionate about the farm. ”
“You’re not?”
“I love it, but I don’t know if I want to run it.” Harris shrugged and gazed out the window. The sun had almost set over the snow-covered orchard. “I like my job a lot. I think I’d like to see how far I can go doing marketing and communications stuff.”
“And you get to work for the team you’re obsessed with.”
“True.”
“And you get to bone down with the hottest guy on the team.”
Harris elbowed him. “You’re making me feel unprofessional.”
At that moment, amazingly, Ursula hopped off the dresser and walked directly over to Troy. She paused a moment, glancing up at him, before jumping onto the bed beside him.
“Holy,” Harris said. “She never does that.”
Troy cautiously stroked Ursula’s head with a gentle hand. She leaned up into his palm, seemingly as fond of Troy’s touch as Harris was. Within seconds, she was purring loudly with her front paws on Troy’s thigh.
“Wow. She loves you.”
“Because she has great taste,” Troy said as he stroked under her chin.
Harris watched in astonishment for several minutes as Ursula shamelessly soaked up as much of Troy’s attention as she could get.
“Should I leave?” Harris asked.
“Are you still here?”
Harris laughed and kissed Troy’s cheek. “We should go back downstairs.”