Chapter Two
CIARAN
Ciaran turned off the highway and began a trek down a road that went on for miles. The snow drifted down, covering the road ahead. Outside his car window were snow-covered fields. He’d occasionally pass a farmhouse with a barn, but not much more.
He’d stopped in Oregon to buy chains, and he was glad he had.
The roads became icier as he turned onto a mountain pass.
His GPS said he was two hours from his destination, Thistle.
It sounded small and quaint. He needed to escape the bustling city of San Francisco.
He’d planned one night before heading to Canada to visit his parents.
I bet it’d be nice to live in a small village. I’d also be closer to my parents if I lived in Washington.
For the past five years, he’d wondered about moving out of California, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
Something inside always stopped him. Fear?
Fear of what, though, he couldn’t tell. Ciaran never took risks unless he’d planned for the worst-case scenario.
He didn’t have the savings to move, so it wasn’t a risk he’d take.
The worst-case scenario was homelessness.
My family wouldn’t let that happen. They’d help me.
Ciaran pulled into a small gas station in the middle of nowhere.
He got out and stretched. His stomach growled, and the snacks inside called out to him.
The shop was clean and stocked.
“Well, hello there,” a woman behind the counter called. “What can I do for you?”
“Hello,” Ciaran said. “I’m just stopping for gas and some snacks.”
“We have plenty of both,” she said. “Heading north or south?”
“North,” he said. “I’m heading to Thistle.”
“That’s a lovely village, but I’m not sure it’s wise. How long are you staying?”
“Just one night,” Ciaran said. “Then I’m heading up to British Columbia to visit family.”
“Well, don’t stay too long. There’s a storm brewing, and the roads will be closed by Saturday.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
He bought some snacks, a soda, and filled his car with gas before getting back on the road.
Ciaran turned on the radio and tuned to the emergency station to check on the storm the woman mentioned.
The radio announcer described the snowfall and how the area was expected to get at least two inches overnight.
“That’s not bad. It’ll be fine.”
He put in a CD of Bryan Adams Christmas songs he’d made and escaped into the fantasy world of Christmas carols: simple lives, cheerful people, and wonderful friends.
He didn’t have many friends, if you could even call his local bowling team friends.
He spent his time designing web pages from the comfort of his home.
He didn’t get out much. After he hit thirty, things changed.
The bars didn’t call to him anymore, and he hated the club scene.
He was a homebody. He just wished he had someone to share it with.
There was a large bear community, but he was just too scared to take the plunge.
Ciaran knew he’d find a nice guy if he just tried.
Work consumed him. The last decade flew by, and now, in his mid-thirties, he wasn’t sure how to date anymore.
A small lit billboard read Thistle: Home Away From Home. His jaw dropped at the sight of the main road leading into Thistle. People decorated every shop for the holidays. It was out of a movie. He’d seen nothing like it before. It was…breathtaking.
Ciaran parked on the street and got out. He looked at his watch. It was only one. He had two hours before his check-in at The Bear’s Den. This was a perfect opportunity to see the village.
He walked down the street, marveling at the intricate decorations. A shop that sold toys displayed marionettes and a train set that held a striking resemblance to Thistle. The owners must have had them custom-made.
He entered the shop to get a closer look at the train set.
The model had beautiful details. He found the toy shop on the model. Houses filled the outside of the main streets, which held shops, a gas station, a library, and two schools.
“Hello there,” a plump man said. He was wearing red pants and a shirt, with white suspenders. “How can I help you?”
“I’m passing through on my way to The Bear’s Den, and your shop caught my eye,” Ciaran said. “I noticed the train set display. Is that what Thistle looks like?”
“It sure is,” the man gave a jolly laugh. “I should know. I’ve lived here sixty years, and I built that set myself.”
“You built it?”
“I sure did,” he smiled. “I’m Nicholas, the toy maker.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Ciaran said, shaking hands. “Also, Nicholas the toy maker? That’s very on the nose.”
“It is.” Nicholas tapped the side of his nose and winked.
Ciaran laughed.
“The set is beautiful.”
“It’s for sale,” Nicholas said.
“I wish I had a way to get it home,” he said. “It looks fragile, and I’m afraid the long drive will damage it.”
“It’s a sturdy piece, but I understand. If you change your mind, let me know.”
“I will.”
Ciaran browsed the shop and bought a deck of cards for his nephew, a small porcelain doll for his niece, and a puzzle for each of them. These were stocking stuffers. He wanted to get something special for them to put under the tree.
Nicholas wrapped them for him and even put labels on.
He thanked Nicholas and headed back on the road to The Bear’s Den.
He left the holiday village, turning onto a dirt road that headed further into the mountain. The sun glistened off the snow, giving it an ethereal aura.
He passed the sign for the bed-and-breakfast.
“Finally,” Ciaran said to himself. “I just want to take a nice hot shower and relax.”
He came upon a two-story log-cabin-style home. It was gorgeous. The yard had a sign: The Bear’s Den: A safe place for big guys and their admirers.
“Cute.”
Ciaran walked through the freshly shoveled path to the door.
He tried to open the door, but it was locked. He looked at his watch. It was five minutes after two. They should be open.
He knocked and waited. Nothing.
“Where are they?”
He turned around at the sound of a vehicle approaching. A blue truck carrying two men came up the path. They got out and approached him.
Ciaran walked down to meet them.
These two men were bears, which made sense. The shorter one wore wire-rimmed glasses, a full beard, and short brown hair. The taller one, well over six feet, was blond, with a goatee. They were both handsome men.
“Hello,” Ciaran said. “I’m Ciaran Moore. I have a one-night stay booked.”
“Well,” the shorter man looked at him. “I’m Teddy, and this is my partner, Geoff. I think I forgot we had a one-nighter. It’s not common. Sorry, we weren’t here to meet you.” He extended his hand, and Ciaran shook it before shaking hands with Geoff, too.
“I just got here,” he said. “I’m sorry I didn’t call to confirm.”
“No worries,” Teddy said. “Come inside. We’ll get you set up.”
Ciaran grabbed his bag and followed the men inside.
The interior matched the exterior. Wooden and natural. A fireplace sat against a wall, with two chairs in front. A couch with a crochet throw blanket over it, a wooden coffee table, and a ceiling fan. There was no television in sight.
“So,” Teddy said. “You’re here for one night, right?”
“Yes,” Ciaran said slowly. “Just one night.”
“We’re surprised you didn’t cancel,” Geoff said. “All our other guests did.”
Geoff had a German accent that took Ciaran aback. He’d never met someone from Germany.
“Why?” Ciaran furrowed his brow.
“The storm,” Teddy said. “Didn’t you hear about it?”
“Yes,” he said, “but it’s not supposed to be here until Saturday. I’ll be out of Washington by then.”
“True,” Geoff said. “Well, just sign in and I’ll show you to your room.”
“Thanks.”
Ciaran filled out the forms and followed Geoff to his room.
“Where are you headed?” Geoff asked.
“I’m going to visit my family in White Rock, BC.”
“You’re from Canada?”
“Yes and no,” Ciaran said. “My mom is from Eugene, Oregon, and my dad is from Vancouver. My dad moved to the States to live with my mom. They moved to Wisconsin, where my sister and I were born, but spent a lot of time in Canada on vacations with my dad’s family.
Long story short, they moved to White Rock when I was twenty, and I moved to California to go to school and strike out on my own. ”
“Wow, that’s amazing. You made it on your own in California with no one?”
“I can’t say no one,” Ciaran said. “My boyfriend at the time moved there with me. That is another story, though.”
“We’ll leave it at that, then.”
They climbed the wooden stairs, and Geoff opened a door to a small room. It held a bed, a nightstand with a lamp, a wardrobe, a television, and a ceiling fan.
“This looks amazing,” Ciaran said. “I think it’s well worth the charge.”
“Thank you,” Geoff said. “I designed the rooms myself.”
“You have an excellent eye.”
The bedspread was a soft brown, offsetting the darker wood of the walls. A throw rug lay under the bed.
“Thank you,” Geoff said. “The bathroom is down the hall. It has a shower and everything. You’re the only one here, so it’s all yours.”
“Thank you,” he said. “Now I have to figure out what I’ll do for dinner later.”
“Well,” Geoff said, “since you’re the only guest here, you’re welcome to join us.”
“That would be wonderful,” he said. “Thank you.”
“I’ll let you settle in. Dinner is at five-thirty. One of us will come get you. Do you have any allergies?”
“No.”
“Great.” Geoff moved to close the door.
“Before you go,” Ciaran said. “What is there to do around here?”
“Not much, I’m afraid. Most people come to relax and get some fresh air. Did you stop in Thistle?”
“Yes.”
“That’s about it. They have some amazing shops.”
“I noticed,” Ciaran said. “I found a wonderful toy shop.”
“That would be Nicholas Johnson. Sweet man.”
“Do you know everyone in town?”
“Just about,” Geoff said. “It’s not a big place. Everyone knows everyone.”
“Do they know…you know?”
“That we’re a gay couple who owns a bed-and-breakfast for large queer men? Yes, they know. Nobody bothers us. They don’t care.”
“That’s not what I expected from a small town.”
“When you’re forced to live in a village like this, you just deal with it,” Geoff smiled.
He has such a sweet smile. Damn it. Stop that. He’s taken.
“If there’s nothing else, we’ll see you at five-thirty.”
“See you then.”
Ciaran collapsed on the bed. It was soft and supportive. He’d spent two nights on hotel beds, and it was nice to have a bed that suited his frame. These guys knew how to take care of their large brothers.
Maybe I’ll stay an extra night. They said everyone cancelled for the weekend. An extra night would be nice.
The storm was coming, but he’d be out before Friday morning. Nothing to worry about.