Chapter Two
Spencer
The Back Door was a gay bar wedged between a bakery and a gear shop on Big Bear’s main drag.
Inside, mismatched leather couches circled a crackling hearth, and tangled strings of red and gold lights blinked overhead.
The air mingled with scents of smoke, beer, peppermint schnapps and maybe sugar cookies from the bakery next door.
Spencer lounged in a squeaky red vinyl booth; flannel and boots dusted with snow.
“You’re really here,” Nathan said, shaking his head. “I didn’t think I’d get you off that ranch.”
Spencer laughed and took a sip of his beer. “You bribed me with booze and boys. I’m not that strong.”
Nathan smiled. “Fair. But seriously, it’s good to see you. You look… rugged. Like you wrestled a bear on the way down.”
“Only metaphorically,” Spencer said. “But I had to dig my truck out of a snowbank before I hit the highway.”
“I don’t understand why you didn’t fly?” Nathan asked as he pushed his shoulder-length wavy hair out of his brown eyes.
“I wanted my truck with me.”
“That was a long damn drive when you could have rented a truck.”
“I enjoyed driving.” The truth was Spencer needed the time to transition from conservative Montana to free-loving California. His only fear was that he might not want to return home.
Nathan raised his beer bottle. “To Montana grit.”
They clinked their beers. Around them, the club was in full swing with guys chatting near the fireplace, someone playing pool in the back, and a DJ setting up for later. Nathan’s boy Alfie stood over by the bar, talking to a guy who had bright red hair and was wearing a black leather jacket.
Spencer watched the room for a moment, then turned back to Nathan. “I miss this,” he said. “The music, the noise, the flirting. Hell, even the bad lighting.”
Nathan leaned in. “You miss singing?”
“Every damn day,” Spencer said. “I sing to the horses sometimes. They’re a terrible audience.”
Nathan snorted. “Do you still write too?”
“Bits and pieces. Mostly in my head while I’m fixing fences or hauling hay. But it’s not the same. I miss the stage. I miss you on drums. I miss the way we used to make people feel something.”
Nathan’s smile softened. “You were electric up there. Still are, I bet.”
Spencer shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve been living like a hermit, and I’m still not out in Montana. I want to meet someone. Someone who doesn’t mind mud and long winters and a guy who talks to his horses.”
Nathan tilted his head. “Are you thinking long-term?”
Spencer nodded. “Yeah. I want someone to come back with me. Not just for the week. For the whole damn ride.”
Nathan raised his eyebrows. “You’re not the only one here hoping for something real. A lot of these guys are tired of the hookup scene.”
Spencer glanced around again. “I feel like I’m in a different world when I come to California. I feel so free and with so much hope. Back home, I’m not living who I really am.”
“But you made a promise to your grandfather. And that’s what’s holding you back from returning to us and the stage?” Nathan never let an opportunity go by to push his agenda for Spencer to return. They both missed each other more than either understood.
“I broke his heart when I left at eighteen. But he told me when he passed, I had to come home and run the family ranch. I gave him my word, and we were on good terms up to the day he passed.” Spencer had tried to explain to Nathan several times, but his reasons didn’t reach Nathan’s understanding.
“You could have sold the ranch. You don’t belong in Montana.”
“I know you think my grandfather wouldn’t know since he’s buried under the ground, but I want to pay him back for raising me. My promise wasn’t to deceive him.”
Nathan grinned but at the same time kept an eye on his boy. “One day you’ll make me understand your promise.”
“Let’s drink to that.”
They sipped their beer and laughed at each other like old times.
Nathan handed him the keys. “For your cabin. I stacked the refrigerator. This Find a Daddy Christmas mixer will have a room of possibilities. Just don’t scare them off with horse stories too soon.”
Spencer shook his head. “No promises.”
They clinked bottles again, and Spencer let himself sink into the moment: the music, the laughter, the low hum of connection. For the first time in a long while, he felt like maybe something incredible was about to begin.
Alfie looked desperate to escape the red-haired man, finally broke free and hurried over to their table, where he quickly sat down on Nathan’s lap.
“Hey, there are lots of littles coming to the mixer. I saw the list,” Alfie told Spencer.
“I just want one.” He noticed the man with fire-engine red hair was talking to another young man. He got a bad feeling about him but couldn’t pinpoint why.
“What did Daddy Red want from you?” Nathan asked.
“He wanted to know if I needed a daddy, and I pointed to you and said I have one.”
“Then why was he still talking to you?” Nathan asked.
“Don’t know.”
“What’s on for tomorrow?” Spencer asked, changing the subject before Nathan pushed too far.
“Shopping for the party. I’ll pick you up at noon.”
“Sounds good. I’m going to call it a night, and I’ll see you at noon.”
“Hey, I put your favorite foods in the cabin with beer too,” Nathan said.
“Thanks. I’m glad you called me.”
Spencer left the bar, boots crunching over the thin layer of snow that had settled.
The cold bit his cheeks, but the beer in his system kept him warm enough.
There was a brand-new Jeep parked in the lot that caught his attention.
Then the man who was hitting on Alfie exited the club and made his way right to it.
Spencer’s cabin wasn’t far; just a few winding turns through the woods, but as he rounded the bend near the old gas station, his headlights caught something unusual.
A guy. Young. Sitting on the side of the road like he’d just dropped out of the sky.
No coat, no hat, just jeans and a hoodie, and snow gathering on his shoulders like he didn’t even notice.
Spencer slowed down, heart thudding with that weird mix of concern and curiosity.
He pulled over and rolled down the window. “You alright?” he asked.
The guy looked up, and Spencer swore something shifted in him. Those eyes—blue, glassy, and so damn sad—hit him like a punch to the chest. He didn’t answer right away, just froze like he wasn’t sure if Spencer was real.
“Hop in,” Spencer said, already reaching over to unlock the door.
The guy climbed in, shivering, and Spencer grabbed the blanket from the back and wrapped it around him blindly.
The guy had been crying. Spencer could see it in the red rims of his eyes, the way his lips trembled even though he wasn’t speaking.
He looked like a broken angel—too beautiful for the mess he was in.
Spencer turned up the heat, the truck humming louder as warm air spilled out. He glanced over, trying not to stare too hard.
“I’m Spencer Wallace,” he said.
“Jamie Butler.”
“Are you headed to the Find a Daddy Christmas party?”
Jamie hesitated, seeming unsure, then nodded, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. “Yeah,” he said, voice rough. “I need to find a new daddy.”
Spencer tried to focus on the man before him without sounding stunned. “A new daddy?”
“Yeah.” Jamie’s eyes still fixed on the windshield like he couldn’t bear to look at him. “The old one didn’t work out.”
Spencer didn’t say anything right away. Just let the silence stretch, the snow tapping softly against the glass. He didn’t know what this was yet, but something in him had already shifted. Something quiet and warm and dangerous.
He kept driving.