Chapter 5
“THE GARDEN club is really going to do something like that?” Donald Ickle asked when Sterling called him. “I love the idea. I never thought the ladies actually had it in them, but I think it’s pretty awesome. Tell them to let me know when they go on sale. I think I’ll buy them for Christmas gifts.” His excitement was almost palpable.
“We’re trying. The thing is, I’m trying to find people who’ll pose for it. I would love a couple of police officers, and I was given your name as a contact. I’m hoping that you could talk it over with your husband.”
Donald’s voice became more cautious. “Not us, definitely. My job is to work with children, and that would raise plenty of eyebrows.” He paused for a few seconds. “I don’t know if I can recommend anyone offhand, but I’ll talk with Carter. He might know one of the guys who would be game to do it.” He might have been enthusiastic about the overall idea, but finding models seemed like another story. Not that Sterling could fault him. He had been contacting other people to feel them out and had gotten polite “I’ll think about it” responses that Sterling knew just meant they didn’t want to tell him no right away.
“I’d appreciate it. It’s harder than I thought to get guys to agree. I had sort of figured that they would love it. They’ll be photographed professionally, and they’ll be part of a project that will help the community.” Sterling tried thinking on his feet. “Can you imagine telling your grandchildren about this and even showing them the pictures? Suddenly you’d be the cool grandpa for sure.”
Donald actually laughed. “Yup, posing in a calendar photo half naked will definitely make you the cool grandpa.” He seemed to get it. “Carter and I will see what we can do.”
“Thanks,” Sterling said, knowing he couldn’t ask for more, even though he was disappointed. He ended the call and sat staring at his phone, wishing he had some other ideas.
Have you had any luck? he sent Connor as a text.
Nope. Aunt Lucille gave me a few names. I called and they were nice enough and said they’d think about it. So nothing yet. I have one more lead, and I left a message. They haven’t called me back yet.
Okay. Thanks for trying. Maybe this wasn’t going to work out after all. Do you want to get together tomorrow for dinner? We can commiserate and try to figure out our next steps. He wasn’t sure if Connor would agree. Since their meeting at his house, they had mostly texted and tried following up on their leads. Sterling was pretty sure Connor was avoiding him. Maybe it was just how he was, or it was also possible that Sterling had come on too strong. He needed to remember that most people weren’t models and weren’t used to being told about all the little cues they gave off all the time. Sterling saw all of them. That had been his job. High fashion was more than just taking pictures of clothes—it was telling a story with the clothes, the set, and the stance, expression, and attitude of the model. All of it had to come together in sometimes very subtle ways to tell a story that the viewer would see, become intrigued by, and want to see again. Or better yet, want to be a part of and would therefore buy whatever was being featured in the photograph. A single image could sell thousands, even millions of dollars of merchandise if it ticked all the boxes. And that required an eye that saw more than the normal person.
Sure , Connor answered. See you at six?
One of the things Sterling hated about text messaging was the lack of personal reference. So much communication was nonverbal, and Sterling was very good at picking up on those cues, but with text messaging that was cut off, so he had to imagine what was behind the words. That often got him in trouble, because naturally, he was usually wrong. This time he decided to take the words at face value.
It should be nice. We can cook out. He sent a smiley face and tried to think of his next steps with the project… and with Connor.
Sterling would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that Connor not only attracted him but intrigued him. He was different, driven, but in his own way. And there was something sexy about his single-minded focus. It made Sterling want to broaden Connor’s horizons. Sterling sighed and forced his thoughts back to the task at hand. He wasn’t going to think of Connor and the way he’d looked in nothing but that kilt….
Like hell he wasn’t.
THE BELL at the front door sounded. “Dad, that would be Connor. Could you let him in, please?” The timing was perfect—like the perfect train wreck. His father had shown up half an hour ago, and it didn’t seem like he was leaving. Thankfully Sterling had enough food, but he had planned on a nice dinner for two with some talking about the project and maybe a little flirting. Instead, he’d been cockblocked by his own father.
He heard his dad and Connor greeting each other as he finished prepping the steaks. Everything else was ready, so he washed his hands and dried them quickly before going to see what the two of them were up to. “Hey, Sterling,” Connor said, handing him a bottle of red wine and offering a smile. They shook hands, and then Sterling took the bottle.
“I see you met my father, Grant,” Sterling said. “And thank you for the wine.” He felt a little like a fumbling teenager stumbling over his words as Connor turned his intense gaze and smile in his direction. “Dad popped in a little while ago.”
“No problem. Maybe he’ll have some ideas.” Connor stepped inside, wearing a white shirt and a different red tartan kilt.
“MacIntosh,” Dad said. “I always loved that tartan.” Sterling had no idea his father was familiar with that sort of thing. “Mildred—one of the ladies in the community—her family is Scottish, and she had a wall art piece made of the clan tartans.” Dad grinned, and Sterling did his best not to roll his eyes.
“Is Mildred your girlfriend?” Connor asked innocently.
Sterling stifled a snicker.
“No. Mildred is just one of the ladies.”
That did it. “More like one of your conquests.” Sterling couldn’t hold it in any longer.
His dad turned, scowled, and smacked him on the arm. “Every one of the women in the community is a lady, and I treat them all that way. Just because they like a little male companionship every once in a while doesn’t mean anything different.” His dad’s smile was back now that Sterling had been properly admonished. “So how do you know my son?”
Connor hesitated, so Sterling answered. “He and I are working on a project to help the garden club. They want to do a calendar, and we’re trying to find local guys to pose for it.”
Sterling’s father was okay with him being gay, but it wasn’t something he understood particularly well. Sterling had always been grateful for his dad’s support, but he hadn’t waved his lifestyle in front of his dad’s face like some giant rainbow flag either.
“I see.” Grant half hummed and motioned toward the living room like it was his house. Well, it had been, so old habits probably died hard. “Tell me about it.”
Sterling met Connor’s gaze to try to get him to steer the conversation in a different direction. “My great-aunt, Lucille Hillyard, is president of the club, and she wants to raise money and the profile of the organization.” It seemed Connor was going to plow forward. “She decided to make a calendar to sell, and she wants to do couples giving flowers.”
“That sounds….” Sterling knew that tone. “Kind of dull, if you ask me. Cutesy, but dull.”
Sterling figured he might as well rip off the Band-Aid. “Dad, the couples will all be shirtless guys like cops, firemen, stuff like that. She wants to do a gay calendar.”
Grant nodded, thinking. “Good idea. All the ladies in the community will buy one. They love a hot-looking man.” He might have seen his father pump himself up a little. He certainly acted like a stud, gray hair or not. It was priceless. “What’s the problem?”
“We can’t get anyone to do it,” Sterling answered. “It has to be local guys—that’s part of the appeal—but no one seems willing to step up and do it, so we were going to meet to figure out what our options were.”
“Hmmm, Lucille Hillyard. I remember her.” Dad got the same look he did when he watched one of those Miss Universe pageants on television. “Your great-aunt was quite a beauty.” He sighed. “Anyway… I’m sorry, boys, but I don’t know anyone who can help you. That sort of thing isn’t my cup of tea. But I’ll keep my ears open. Some of the ladies have gay grandsons and stuff, so I’ll put the word out.” He sat back, and the conversation stalled. “So, Connor, what do you do for a living?”
“He’s a history professor,” Sterling explained, and Connor went into a short elaboration of the types of things he taught as Sterling excused himself to start the grill. He also had some things to do in the kitchen. He had hoped that he might have had a few hours alone with Connor. Yeah, he wanted to talk about the calendar and maybe come up with a few more ideas about where they might find some guys who were interested. But it seemed that their little project was doomed from the start, and as much as he liked Connor, he wasn’t going to have a reason to keep on seeing him. Sterling doubted Connor was all that interested in him in the first place.
Not that Sterling was hugely interested in having a boyfriend or anything. Lord knows he had the worst luck in that department, especially if you counted the selfish backstabbers. And if Sterling didn’t count them, he’d still be a virgin.
He got the last of dinner ready and went out back to put the steaks on the grill.
He’d just closed the lid as the screen door banged behind him. “Can I help you?” Connor asked softly.
“Where’s Dad?”
Connor approached until he stood close enough that Sterling could smell his citrusy cologne. It tickled the edges of his senses, and he closed his eyes, inhaling deeply just for a hint of more of it. “He’s watching the game.”
“And you aren’t interested?” Sterling turned, facing Connor’s intense gaze.
“Not in baseball, no.” There was heat behind Connor’s eyes, and it lit a fire hotter than the grill behind him.
Sterling swallowed hard and leaned slightly forward, drawn to the attraction. When he blinked, it was gone, doused. Sterling took a second to wonder if what he’d seen was real or just a trick of his imagination.
“What does grab your interest?” He met Connor’s gaze, challenging him, making sure his own was obvious.
“Reading. I don’t watch a lot of sports. I find it kind of slow and boring, though maybe I’ll turn on a big game. Mostly I’ve worked and spent years studying so I could earn my doctorate. Then I taught and published like crazy so I’d be of value and could be awarded tenure.” He seemed so innocent and unaware of how adorable and beautiful that was. His eyes were so soft and kind, and when he talked about his work, his expression lit up with excitement. “I think you might want to check the steaks.”
Sterling whirled around and lifted the lid of the grill. He turned them over, grateful he hadn’t burned them while his attention sank into thoughts of what Connor looked like without that white shirt.
“I’ll watch those for you, if you like,” Connor offered, and Sterling nodded blankly, his mind having skipped a beat.
“I’ll get a plate.” Sterling went inside and returned with the large plate for the steaks, which he handed to Connor. Then he went back inside, where he took a few deep breaths to cool himself down and settle his mind. What the hell was he doing? Ever since he’d met Connor, the guy had some sort of grip on his attention, and Sterling needed to clear his head and get that idea out of it. He and Connor were supposed to be working on a project together, nothing more. And it looked like that project was going to fizzle and burn. So, it seemed, was the time that they would have to spend together. Connor had his life, one of students, papers, and high expectations. Sterling hadn’t even been smart enough to see what his ex had been doing to him until it was too late and his entire career, everything he had built, had come crashing down around him.
Sterling got the rest of dinner on the table just as Connor brought in the steaks. “I keep thinking of people who might be interested in the project, but I’ve got nothing. I talked with Aunt Lucille, and she said she was going to try to help, but she didn’t seem to have anything concrete either.” He set the platter on the table, and Sterling grabbed some napkins and called his dad in.
“I honestly didn’t expect it would be this difficult to find the guys. I mean, in my experience, guys aren’t shy. Granted, I worked with models, but it was usually the women who tended to be a little reticent. I remember a fashion shoot where I had four guys and four girls. The guys just changed clothes and were on set in an instant with all the crew milling around. The girls took turns behind a screen in the corner rather than just changing together.” Sterling smiled as he watched Connor set out the last of the silverware. It seemed just putting the cutlery on the table wasn’t enough. Sterling liked that Connor wanted things to be nice. It made him feel kind of special that he cared. “Not that there’s anything wrong with a little modesty. It’s just that a lot of guys don’t really have it. And you’d think being in a calendar would be a lot of fun.”
“You know, speaking of that, we could try one of the gyms to see if some of the guys there would be willing to take part.” Connor put the last fork in place as Sterling’s dad came in and sat down.
“I tried that and got a complete cold shoulder. I would have thought that guys who preened and watched themselves in mirrors for hours would go for it, but no such luck. All I got were sideways looks, so I got out before someone punched me in the face.” That hadn’t been the most affirming experience. Sterling had actually felt a little dirty after that, and he hated that the testosterone-juiced guys had brought out an old sense of shame he hadn’t felt in years. “As much as I hate to say it, maybe this just isn’t meant to be.” He took a helping of his pea-and-bacon salad before passing the bowl to Connor. They filled their plates largely in silence, and Sterling wondered how he might keep the project alive, if for no other reason than as a chance to be able to see Connor again.
“I tend to agree with you, but I hate to go back to Aunt Lucille and tell her we struck out.” Connor took a steak and some of the potatoes before passing them on. “She’s done a lot for me, and I’d hate to have to tell her that we failed.”
“Then give yourselves a break,” Grant interjected. “And for God’s sake, end this pity party. You two sound like someone just killed your puppy. If you want this to be a success”—Grant alternately steeled his gaze on each of them—“and I’m not sure you do, find a way to make it happen and stop whining about it. You can’t expect people to just agree to what you want. If this is truly something you think you want to do, then go out and talk to people, put the word out. Do something other than make a few phone calls. If this isn’t something you care about, then be honest with Lucille and move on.” He rolled his eyes and crinkled his forehead in exactly the same expression he’d worn when Sterling had dented the car at seventeen.
Sterling leaned over the table. “Do you have any ideas, then?”
Grant scoffed. “What, me? I’m not the gay one in the family. If you were doing a calendar of two women giving me flowers, I’d jump at that, but this is your area of expertise, boys, not mine.” He cut a piece of steak, and Sterling shook his head.
Connor glared across the table for two seconds and then began laughing. Sterling followed seconds later. It was a ridiculous notion. Asking his father, the stud of the retirement home, where to find hunky men was like asking a whale for directions to Las Vegas. “Good point, Dad.” Sterling continued smiling. “So, Connor, any ideas where we can find hot, willing men?” He grinned. “Maybe we could put up a sign and turn the house into a gay club?”
“You know, you could turn it into a bathhouse. That would get plenty of gay men in here. Tile the living room, turn it into a steam room, the dining room into a sauna. The upstairs could be turned into private rooms. You’d be beating them off with a stick.”
“Now you guys are being absurd,” Grant muttered. He might try to put on a good face, but Sterling knew all this gay talk was making him uncomfortable. “I know you’re kidding and all, but you have to think outside the box, and you need to be honest with Lucille.” His voice held a scolding tone.
“He’s right. I’ll call Aunt Lucille tomorrow and let her know that things aren’t working out. Grant is right. It’s only fair that we’re honest and up-front with her. Disappointment or not, maybe she can develop another idea.”
Sterling didn’t have any other alternative, and he reluctantly agreed. “I mean, we couldn’t get even one couple for one of the months. How can we expect to round up enough for twelve?” It was disappointing, but sometimes you had to cut your losses and move on to something else. He’d had to do that with his career in fashion. It was over. He could have tried to stick around and pick up the crumbs, jobs no one else wanted to do. He might have been able to make a living, but Sterling had his pride, and being looked down on by everyone, the object of pity, wasn’t what he wanted. No, it was better to back away and leave. He had managed to start over, and he was sure that Lucille would be able to come up with something else.
Connor shrugged, and Sterling pulled his attention away for his trip down the dark lane that was his past.
“If that’s what you think is best,” Grant said, and Sterling took a second to scowl at his father. He hated that tone. He and Connor weren’t giving up. They had done what they could. But the project couldn’t happen if there was no one else interested.
“What are we supposed to do? Take out an ad in the paper?” Sterling snickered. “What exactly would we say? ‘Wanted: hunky guys to pose with other guys for a sexy garden club calendar. Must be built, handsome, and secure in your sexuality.’”
“Maybe we could add that being gay is not a requirement but might be helpful. Touching of other guys is required.” Connor’s eyes danced. “Or we could just say ‘must be prepared for man-on-man photographic action with flowers.’”
“You two are hilarious.” Grant scowled. “I’m trying to be encouraging, and you’re acting like a pain in the ass.” That was directed squarely at Sterling.
“Don’t say ‘pain in the ass’ to gay men. It takes on a whole new meaning,” Connor retorted.
Grant sputtered as some beer went down wrong. Worried about how his dad would react, Sterling did his best not to laugh but failed completely.
“You two….” Grant scowled more darkly before wiping his mouth.
“Lighten up, Dad. We were joking with you. It’s a sign of affection.” He grinned, and Grant rolled his eyes.
“Affection my ass. Shit. I need to lay off asses. It only gets me in trouble with you two.” He actually smiled, and Sterling lightly clapped his dad on the shoulder, grateful that his father’s sense of humor had kicked in. It had been a while since he and his dad had laughed together, and it felt good.
The rest of the meal was nice, with plenty of conversation, and his dad even told a few jokes. They were off-color and funny as hell. Connor had a deep, infectious, sexy laugh that Sterling wanted to hear over and over. Fortunately, Sterling’s dad was in rare form. Now, with the calendar project going nowhere, Sterling moved on to how he was going to be able to get to see Connor again.