Chapter Two
Jasper
Ihummed as I entered the Mission City Recreation Complex.
Okay, I’m going to act cool. Last night wasn’t a complete disaster. He got off.
That’s something, right?
Well…the disconcerting silence all the way back to the party wasn’t a good sign.
Nor was him turning down your offer to drive and instead calling a cab.
Yeah. I’d been sober. He’d still been tipsy. And, because he’d known he’d be drinking, he hadn’t driven.
So…not a complete disaster.
But close to it.
I’d been in Mission City for exactly four weeks. I’d started working at Wally’s Gardening and Lawn Maintenance the day after I moved into my studio apartment.
Wally was awesome. Friendly to his employees, charming to the clients. Just a good guy.
We were in the off-season, what with winter being almost upon us. But snow was rare in Mission City, so he did maintenance pretty much year-round. To supplement my income, he introduced me to a nice woman named Taryn.
She was a tow-truck driver and also had snow removal equipment. She’d do the towing, and she asked me to do plowing.
I’d run a plow up north, so was good with that.
That was pretty damn cool, and I was excited about the first snowfall predicted tonight. This morning, though, I needed to focus on the court. And facing Cameron after last night.
“You’re a million miles away.” Frank Peter gave me an assessing look.
Right, he preferred FP. He was named after some long-distant, long-dead relative. “Hey, FP, how’s it going?”
He grinned. At twenty-two, he still had an air of being young with a touch of mischief. We were the same age, but I always felt much older. Probably because I’d been working the last four years, while he’d been studying sociology. He bopped me. “I had fun at the party last night? You? Did you—”
“Shush.” I gazed around. “Let’s not ever talk about that.”
He snickered. “I’m going to take that as a yes. Don’t worry, I can be discreet.”
Inwardly, I groaned. I didn’t see this man as being capable of discretion. But I didn’t have a choice.
“Oh, hey, Cameron, how’s it going? Did you have fun last night?” FP grinned like a loon.
Crap. Slowly, I turned to face Cameron.
He…didn’t look as bad as I’d expected. Of course, with his dark skin, it would be difficult to see if his skin was tinged green or sallow. Unlike me. My British heritage and fair skin left nothing to the imagination.
“Hello, FP. Hello, Jasper.”
Ah, so today he remembered my name.
Which meant he likely had a very clear memory of last night.
God knew, I did.
“Oh, everyone’s here.” Septimus Knight—who, for obvious reasons, went by Knight—stepped into our circle.
We made a bit of a ragtag bunch.
Knight was the eldest of the group at a mature thirty-seven. With longish dark-blond hair and deep-brown eyes, he appeared oddly roguish. He owned an architecture firm and had recently married his interior designer.
Orlando was…unique. In all the good ways. He had spikey bleach-blond hair, lovely blue eyes, called everyone darling, and wore bright colors.
I meant bright. Like we had no trouble spotting him in the stands. He resembled a peacock—but in a good way.
FP was a little on the plainer side. Medium-brown short hair. Medium-brown eyes. Freckles across his nose that he hated. He worked in maintenance for the city. He was always super vague about his job.
Then Cameron and me.
Four more disparate-looking men one would be hard-pressed to find.
Well, Knight and I were both different shades of blond. But my spikey hair contrasted with his down-to-his shoulders soft locks.
“We’re all here.” I nudged Cam. “And we all survived the party last night.”
Knight rolled his eyes. “Orlando wanted to go. Unfortunately, we had tickets to the Christmas Festival. So sorry to have missed the bonfire.”
Clearly, he in no way was sorry or at all distressed. I couldn’t have pictured him there anyway. I’d barely fit in, being at the upper age of the partygoers.
Cam had been completely out of place.
“Court’s available.” FP tapped his racket. “Flip a coin?”
“I think Jasper should be on my side.” Cameron eyed me.
FP snickered.
Knight’s brow furrowed. “We usually flip a coin, but I have no objections to playing with FP.”
“Great.” I grinned. I didn’t have a clue why Cameron wanted to play with me, but I’d take it as a potential win.
We never chatted during our games. We had one hour on the court, and we always made the most of it. Last week, we’d split and played with other teams. Mena and Todd made formidable opponents. Former childhood sweethearts who’d recently reconnected. Seven kids between the two of them.
I couldn’t envision seven teenagers in one house. Todd’s eldest was twenty, and at university—the other six still lived at home.
Today, though, I didn’t spot the couple.
The hour went by in a blur. Knight and Cameron were…fiercer…than FP and myself. This was supposed to be fun for us. We weren’t in a competitive league or anything. Just a way to get physical activity that wasn’t dependent on the weather. I was all for hiking in the woods, but not in the pouring rain.
We showered and met in the lobby.
Knight waved Orlando over.
Who strutted close wearing rainbow sneakers, neon-pink pants, a multi-colored shirt, and a purple vest with a pale-yellow pocket square.
Somehow, the look just…worked.
“We’re heading to the Christmas Market. We have to get Johnson’s apple cider, Wyatt’s pumpkin pie, and Clay’s pumpkin spice before they run out.” Knight shrugged. “Apologies.”
“Oh, and we’re buying one of Henry’s fairy figurines for our Christmas tree at work.” Orlando beamed. “LGBTQ fairies. They’re just…stunning.”
“I’ll walk over with you.” FP grinned. “I need to see these fairies. I have a niece who might want one.” He cocked his head at Cameron and me.
“Jasper and I are having coffee.” Cameron met my gaze, as if asking me if that was okay.
Like I’d say no to anything you suggest? Score! Second date!
“Right. Coffee. Because that’s what we regularly do.” I straightened because his eyes read very serious. Not that they didn’t always—Cameron took badminton seriously. Sometimes, at coffee afterward, we could make him laugh.
FP, Knight, and Orlando departed.
Cameron eyed me. “Choice?”
“Why don’t we go to Starbucks? There and Tim Horton’s are both good choices, but I have a hankering for a java chip frappucino.”
He winced. “That’s an excessive amount of sugar.”
I patted my flat stomach. “I’ll be fine. At The Junction? I’ll meet you inside.” Before he could respond, I headed out the door.
His insistence on going for coffee had to be a good thing.
Right?
I drove my old car down to The Junction. The first flakes were coming down. Even if we had a massive dump of snow, it wouldn’t be like the storms back where I’d come from.
Twelve hundred kilometers.
Seven-hundred-and-fifty miles.
Twelve very long hours.
Still in British Columbia, though. Fort St. John was so far north that I’d been close to the Yukon Territory and not far from the Arctic circle. Mission City was in the southwestern-most corner and nearly brushed the US border.
Two different worlds.
Similar politics a lot of the time, though.
I pulled into a parking space, cut my engine, unbuckled my seatbelt, and got out of the car. Energy thrummed through me, despite having just left everything back on the court.
As I entered the store, the smell of coffee assailed me.
Blake waved. “Hi, Jasper.”
I took great comfort that they already knew my name.
Cameron had casually mentioned Blake preferred they but had also sought gender-affirming medical care, and it hadn’t gone over well in the community or with their family. At all. People regularly deadnamed them.
Naturally, I was horrified. People could be such shits.
“Blake, my sweetest. I’m looking forward to the best frapp ever.”
They grinned. “Coming up. Tristan will take your order.”
The handsome university student stood by the till with a grin on his face. “How’d the game go?”
Four weeks, and everyone already knew I played badminton Saturday mornings and came in for a drink at Starbuck’s afterward.
Four weeks of playing with Cameron.
He really should’ve remembered my name last night. Hell, he probably should’ve recognized me from the start. Just showed how shitfaced he’d been.
Shame swamped me. I’d taken advantage of a drunk guy. Bad idea. Maybe that’s what he wanted to talk about. “Java chip frapp.”
“You bet.” Tristan swiped my card. “You’ve still got money on the card, so you’re good.”
“Thanks.”
“My pleasure.”
“How’s Olivia?”
He grinned. “She’s good. Coming in later to study. When I’m off. I plan to join her.”
Both he and his girlfriend attended the university over in Abbotsford.
I was jealous. I hadn’t gone to college. Had finished high school and figured I was golden with my job in the oil patch.
Until I lost said job, my cheating boyfriend dumped me, and I got tired of pretending the work I’d been doing hadn’t been incredibly detrimental to the environment.
So I’d answered an ad for an assistant gardener, aced the interview, and headed south. I’d been diligently saving for the past four years—knowing the ups and downs of oil—and so had a cushion. More than enough for first and last month’s rent as well as everything I needed until I’d gotten my first paycheck. I had to work hard…but that never daunted me.
“Hey, are you okay?” Cameron’s concerned voice hit me unexpectedly.
“Hmm?” I squinted.
“You looked really deep in thought. I’ve ordered my tea latté. Is that your frapp?” He pointed to the counter.
“Uh, yeah.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
I smiled. “I was just thinking about how lucky I am to have landed in Mission City. With a great boss. With a new group of friends. With three amazing guys who play badminton and don’t roll their eyes when I get excited.”
He snickered. “You’re always very joyous—whether you win or lose.”
“We kicked their butts.”
“FP was definitely off his game. I think he was both drunker than me and stayed longer than me.”
I snagged my frapp and would’ve thanked Blake, but they were making Cameron’s drink. “He was a little green this morning.”
“But didn’t want us to notice.” Cameron grinned. “I could’ve gone easy on him.”
“Yeah, but Knight didn’t go easy on us.”
“Here you go.” Blake placed the tea latté on the counter.
“You’re awesome, Blake, thank you.” Cameron saluted the barista.
“My thanks as well.” I grinned.
Their cheeks pinkened a little, which was so sweet. “My pleasure.”
“Blake, can you grab the till?” Tristan waved to us. “Sorry.”
Simultaneously, we waved—completely understanding this was one of the busiest stores in Mission City. Well, and the Timmie’s next door.
Cameron pointed to the overstuffed and very comfortable chairs.
Gratefully, I sank down. I stuck the reusable plastic straw I’d brought into my drink. I avoided paper when I could. Better for the environment than single-use plastic, but the darn things had to be made and, more frustratingly, they got soggy if I nursed my drink too long.
Since this was my treat for the week, I always took my time. Tristan and Blake knew I usually ordered a black coffee in the drive-thru while on the way to work.
Cameron sat.
Although more slowly.
He sipped his tea latté in a ceramic mug. “I owe you an apology.”
Oh fuck.
This is not going where I think it is.
So, no second date?
Or is it?
Hang on tight. This might wind up being a bumpy road.