like longer, and Gavin knew it was a moment he would never forget.
When the man lifted his face, Gavin silently gasped.
Oh, yeah. God’s gift to men. Or women. Please let him be gay… What were the chances?
Wait. What the hell am I thinking? I can’t hook up with anyone in this small town. I’m only here
for the summer. There’d be no way to keep it private.
The man’s expression was hard, startled. His eyes were as dark as his hair, his face sun-
kissed a deep brown with a tinge of red from working outside. Tiny wrinkles spread from the
corners of his eyes as he scrunched them to stare at Gavin.
The hammer he held slid through his right hand as if he’d forgotten he was holding it, but he
gripped it tighter at the last second, keeping it from dropping onto the deck. After a moment, his
face softened, and he cocked his head to one side, lifting a hand to block the sun’s morning rays
from his vision. “Are you lost, pretty boy?”
Ordinarily, if anyone spoke to Gavin that way, he would lose his shit, partially because the
terminology was nearly always meant as an insult and partially because Gavin’s spine was
accustomed to stiffening anytime anyone accused him of being gay. He’d spent his entire
twenty-four years denouncing that truth and defending himself against homophobic insults.
But this man, this perfect example that God was alive and well in the universe, he could call
Gavin anything he wanted. Somehow the words he’d spoken didn’t come out as an insult at all.
In fact, from his lips, they were an endearment.
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