Hunks of the Month

Chapter 2

THEY WERE all crazy—that was the only possible explanation.

“What?” Connor demanded more loudly than he intended. The thought of being the model for some page in a gay calendar was about as ridiculous as he could possibly imagine. “You have to be joking.” Even Sterling seemed shocked, which was a relief.

He lifted his huge blue eyes, and Connor forgot what he was going to say for a second. “Why not?” Sterling said.

There had to be something in the water. That was the only explanation. “No way in hell.” He couldn’t stop his great-aunt from doing what she wanted, but he wasn’t having any part of it. No matter how those incredible blue eyes gazed at him.

“The calendar is a great idea, but instead of the Calendar Girls thing, we do a sort of Hunks of the Month.” Sterling grinned, and his eyes shone with an excitement that Connor found intoxicating. “You would be great for one of the months. I picked April because of spring and the kilt. It would be perfect. Especially if we can get a second kilt guy.”

Connor could almost picture Sterling behind his camera, taking his picture. He shook his head. “No way.” He expected that to be the end of it. He had used his best authoritative tone. That usually worked; it certainly did with his students.

But Sterling only cocked his eyebrows and met his gaze. “Really?” It was almost unnerving, the way Sterling didn’t look away. The attention didn’t give Connor the creeps, but it was evident that Sterling liked what he saw. And the more Connor looked back, the more he realized how interesting Sterling was. The guy wasn’t what you’d call gorgeous. He had these little lines around his eyes that grew more pronounced when he added a slight squint. What surprised him was how exposed he felt under that gaze. Or maybe not exposed so much as worried that somehow Sterling could see inside him.

He grew warm in the air conditioning of the house and figured that rather than argue, he should simply extricate himself from the situation. “I should go back outside and finish up the beds.”

Connor turned and strode out of the house. He needed to get away from Sterling’s intense gaze. It made him feel… naked.

Once outside, he went into the garage. He snatched a shovel off the hook on the wall and strode outside into the sun. This entire idea was too outrageous for words, and hopefully his great-aunt would realize that. Either way, she wasn’t going to drag him into her beefcake-fest.

Connor inhaled deeply, taking in clean, fresh air, hoping it would cleanse away the thoughts he knew he shouldn’t be having. If he was honest, the idea of a calendar of hot guys didn’t sound bad at all, and the whole flower angle was brilliant for the garden club. What he objected to was being part of it. Not that there wouldn’t be pressure now that the idea seemed to have sprouted legs—as his great-aunt said when an idea had merit.

Aunt Lucille was the most persuasive person he had ever met. She usually got what she wanted, and Connor had no illusion that if she decided that this was what she wanted to do, she’d take his no for an answer. Still, he had to be strong and stick to his guns. It was the only way. Any show of weakness and she’d pounce like a tiger and it would all be over.

Connor shook his head to try to get this whole notion to fly the hell out of it and stalked around the side of the house. His great-aunt wanted him to transplant some daylilies for her, and he figured attacking them and the dirt would be a good way to do just that.

DAMN IT all. He finished moving the last plant and had cleared the bed of all weeds, but he still couldn’t get that damned calendar idea out of his head. He was also aware that Sterling and his great-aunt were still talking, and that was even worse. A few times while he was working, he thought he could feel Sterling watching him. Connor disregarded the notion and continued with his work. Maybe if he ignored him and pretended he wasn’t interested, Sterling and his great-aunt would finish up their idea and planning session, or whatever it was they were doing now. Sterling would go back to whatever it was he did all day, and Connor could stop worrying about him.

“You know, you have to do more than lean on the shovel to get it to do something,” Sterling said from close by, startling him. “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you or seem creepy or anything. I’m leaving, and I wanted to say goodbye before I left.” He smiled, and sweat broke out on Connor’s forehead. When Sterling smiled, his face transformed, and more lines appeared around his mouth and eyes, giving him a truly joyful air. Damn, Connor needed to be careful or that smile was going to get under his defenses.

“Did you and my great-aunt figure out what you’re going to do?” He picked up the shovel and scooped up some loose dirt. Not that he had a reason to, other than needing something to occupy his hands.

“She really wants to move forward with the calendar.” Sterling placed his hand on Connor’s shoulder, and Connor stilled because that simple touch felt good. It had been a long time… too long. “I’m sorry I blurted out that you should be one of the months. I got a little excited.” Sterling’s hand slipped away, and Connor turned to look at him. “I should have asked and not tried to pressure you. I just got the initial idea because of you, and then your great-aunt took it to a whole new level.”

“I see.” Connor stiffened warily, wondering what Sterling was up to. “You know, you’re all crazy to even think of doing this. Here?” He motioned around him. “There’s a church on every corner.”

Sterling shrugged. “Your great-aunt is amazing, and this will get noticed. Think about it. Madonna, Lady Gaga—they made careers of being outrageous. Why not the garden club?” He took a step closer. Damn, that wicked glint was back in a big away. “I think I understand.”

Why did Connor get the idea once more that Sterling could read his mind? It was frightening, but he’d be damned if he was going to let him think he got the best of him. “Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?” Connor retorted. “You have no clue about me or what I know or want.” He let the shovel fall to the ground, crossing his arms over his chest. He was growing more and more curious about and yet annoyed with Sterling. He had thought this was a guy who just took pictures, but there could be more to him than that, and it intrigued him. But he didn’t intend to let Sterling—or his great-aunt—pull him into this craziness.

Sterling smiled again. “You’re right, I don’t know what you want. But I do know some things about you.”

“Like what?” Connor asked. This was getting interesting. Maybe Sterling fancied himself as some modern-day Sherlock Holmes. “Come on, tell me what you think you know.” This could be fun, and the intensity in Sterling’s deep blue azure-flecked eyes intrigued him.

Sterling took a step back. “You aren’t as put off by the idea of posing for the calendar as you’d like us to think.” His gaze raked over him, and Connor did his best not to shiver under its intensity. Instead, he stared and refused to back down. Damn, this man was forward and made no pretense to hide his attraction. No straight man would ever look at another guy that way. That was interesting, and his body thought so too. That was one of the beauties of wearing a kilt. Certain conditions could remain hidden, at least most of the time, and at the moment, he didn’t want Sterling to know just how attractive he found him. Not that Connor intended to do anything about it. He’d had enough with men to last him a lifetime. A little amusement was okay, a bit of fun, but nothing more. And Sterling had more… a lot more… tons more… written all over him.

“I’ll bite.” Connor bared his teeth a little, and Sterling shivered. That was interesting. “Why do you think so?”

Sterling grinned. “Let me see. You’re out at your great-aunt’s doing yardwork in a kilt and boots, nothing else. And looking the way you do, I’d say you want to be noticed and that maybe there’s a little bit of exhibitionist in you.” He stepped back. “That’s not a bad thing. I made my living with models and exhibitionists. If you were shy and retiring in the modeling game, you got eaten for lunch. I’m just saying that there’s nothing wrong with showing off a little. Especially when you’ve got plenty to show off.” Sterling actually blushed at that point, and Connor was grateful that Sterling had at least some shame. Not that he intended to fall for Sterling’s hotness. He’d met plenty of guys like him, and they were all flash and no substance.

“For your information, it’s hot out here and I wear a kilt almost all the time—except in the dead of winter, because I like my nuts where they are, thank you very much.” If Sterling could be forward, then Connor had no intention of playing the shrinking violet. “I’m a history lecturer at Dickinson College, and I’m proud of my Scottish heritage. My mother was related to the Laird of Clan MacIntosh, so I have plenty to be proud of. And as for working outside without a shirt, it’s sweltering and I promised Aunt Lucille that I would help her.” He glared at Sterling. Let him try to get around that.

Sterling put his hands in the air, and Connor half grinned, knowing he had won that round. “Okay. But still….” He waved his hands up and down. “I think the idea gives you a thrill. Your breathing certainly says so.”

Connor cleared his throat and controlled his breathing, earning a smile. “Fine. I’m not shy. Is that a crime? And I’m a teacher. Granted, at the college level, but I don’t need my freshman European history students bringing in a calendar with me as one of your Mr. Aprils and asking for autographs.” He cocked his eyebrows.

“I understand. We could give you and whoever we find to pose with you the cover, if you’d rather,” Sterling quipped and then laughed. “I’m kidding. You don’t have to look like your kilt just Marilyn Monroed.”

“Okay, fine.” Connor picked up the shovel. “I need to finish up here and then go home so I can work in my own yard. I wish you and Aunt Lucille all the luck in the world with this insane calendar idea.” He was about to turn away, but he stopped. “The garden club may sound really little old lady… and it largely is. But those women do a lot for this town, and they don’t ask for any credit. I only hope that I have the chance to give back to the community the way they do. It’s important to me, and maybe I can even run for office. So whatever you do, you give it your best. My great-aunt throws her heart into everything she does, so don’t you think of taking advantage of her or leading her down some garden path—no pun intended.” He’d take on anyone who hurt his Aunt Lucille. She was about all the family he had left—well, family he was speaking to, or were speaking to him.

“I want to help,” Sterling said. “Your great-aunt has passion, and she wants to make a difference.”

Connor nodded. “She always has.” He went back to work and did his best not to turn to watch Sterling walk away, even though he wanted to. Instead he focused his attention on his great-aunt’s flower bed.

“AUNT LUCILLE, I’m done,” Connor called an hour later. His back ached a little, and he was covered in dirt. He washed his hands and wiped his face, using some paper towel to dry off. He needed to go home, shower, and get truly clean. His own garden would have to wait for another day.

His great-aunt responded from deeper in the house, and Connor took off his boots and strode, in sock feet, farther into the house. He expected to find her in the kitchen or her family room, but he followed her voice back to the master bedroom. “Connor, thank you,” she said from where she was lying down.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. I usually take a nap in the afternoon, but today it isn’t working.” She slowly sat up and got off the bed. “Getting old sucks. You have pain in places you never knew you had and feel tired a lot of the time, but the worst part is that you can’t do shit.” She stood up.

Connor knew what she meant. His great-aunt had designed and lovingly tended her garden for decades. She nurtured and cared for it, putting some of herself into the soil. He was more than willing to help, but he knew it wasn’t the same for her. She didn’t move the way she used to and was sometimes unsteady on her feet. But she was still just as determined; at least that hadn’t dimmed. “I don’t think any of us can stop that.”

“True,” she said with a sigh as she passed him in the doorway, heading out toward the kitchen. “I want to ask a favor.” She didn’t pause for a second. “I know you don’t want to be part of the calendar… and that’s fine, I understand. And no one should be forced into anything, but would you be willing to work with Sterling on this project? I really want it to be a success, and I can only do so much.”

Connor was sure she was up to something. Aunt Lucille never backed away from anything, and she didn’t admit defeat under any circumstances. He picked up his shirt from the chair where he’d placed it earlier and pulled it on. “Are you really going to do this? A gay calendar?” She grinned like she was a teenager, and Connor couldn’t rain on her happiness parade. She was more excited than Connor had seen her in a long time. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing. I’m going to need some help, and there are going to be a lot of moving parts on this.” She handed him a business card. “Just work with him and help me out. I knew his mother before she passed away. She was in the garden club for about a year, and she and I were friends.” His great-aunt seemed defeated, and Connor hated that. It seemed so out of character. “I just need help with a proposal and some mock-ups so I can take the idea to the club and get their approval. She rolled her eyes. Connor figured that was going to be a really hard sell… no pun intended. “Besides, you spend way too much time at home alone and you need to get out and meet people.”

So that was it. “Are you matchmaking? Again?”

“Definitely not. I learned my lesson with… what’s-his-name.” She had the grace to look appalled. “I’m sorry I had anything to do with you meeting… him .”

“Trevor,” Connor supplied flatly, trying not to think about him. He had his work and his great-aunt, and he kept himself busy.

His great-aunt rolled her eyes. “He who shall not be named,” she quipped, and Connor had to agree with her on that. Trevor had started out as excitingly good but had ended in an epic crash and burn that he didn’t want to speak or think about. His heart still had the burn marks around the edges. “I’m sorry I even introduced the two of you.” Her eyes blazed for a few seconds, and Connor leaned over and hugged her gently.

“There was no way you could have known just how rotten and despicable he was on the inside.” Connor closed his eyes and took comfort when she held him in return. Everyone had made a mistake or two in their love life, but Trevor had been more than a mistake. “I’m doing better now, and I’m moving on. It’s a one-day-at-a-time situation, but you know that.”

Aunt Lucille was one of the toughest, most determined people he knew, and he knew of her battle with alcohol, which she never claimed to have truly won. She didn’t talk about it much any longer, but he remembered her sitting down with him when he was in high school. She had shared her story that drinking had nearly cost her her life and that she had nearly lost everything she had and everyone important to her. She told him her story as a cautionary tale, but it had cemented his absolute love for her. So when Trevor absolutely shattered his life and he’d thought about trying to escape, it was Aunt Lucille who kept him from going down that path. And Connor loved her for it.

“Will you help me?” she whispered, and Connor nodded as he still hugged her. “Thank you.” She tightened her hold for a few seconds and then released him.

Connor straightened up and grabbed his keys and wallet off the table. “I need to go. Is there anything else you need help with?”

“No, I’m fine.” She put the kettle on the stove, probably to make herself some tea. Connor swore she lived on the stuff. He went for the back door. “You will call Sterling and help me figure out this calendar business?”

“I will. I have his number.” Connor held up his wallet to emphasize his point.

She plunked a mug down on the granite counter. “You know, you two should go to dinner. It’s easier to talk business over a good meal.” She turned away, and Connor groaned as he pulled open the door and got out of the house before his great-aunt made them reservations and decided what he should wear. She was never going to change, no matter what she said: a matchmaker was a matchmaker was a matchmaker. God help him.