And anything important to Gent was important to me.
Bill reached out to pat me on the shoulder. “We heard you were making food,” he said. “Any day I don’t have to cook is a good day.”
Gent stepped up behind me and slid his arms around me. “I thought you were on your way to California to pick up Solomon?”
Pim reached for Bill’s hand and squeezed it. The guys were only in their mid to late forties, but they’d always seemed paternal to me. I was excited they were about to become fathers for real. They’d gotten a call from an LGBTQ youth shelter in San Francisco where a young teen boy waited to be claimed by any relative who would take him. The family who owned the shelter had run some searches and discovered Pim was somewhere in the kids’ family tree. They’d already been to visit him several times in hopes of giving everyone involved a chance to decide what they wanted to do next.
It was not even a question for Bill and Pim. They were desperate to bring Solomon home and help him have a good life here in Aster Valley, and we couldn’t wait to help any way we could. Aster Valley might have been a small town, but in the two years we’d lived here, we’d discovered it had everything we needed to thrive.
“Tomorrow,” Bill said. “That’s actually why we’re here. We need some distraction, or Pim’s going to bust out of his skin. He’s already cleaned the house a million times, and I’ve made enough frozen casseroles to feed an army. You’d think we were having a newborn instead of a fifteen-year-old boy.”
Gent laughed. “Teen boys eat like an army, so you’re probably good there.”
We all wandered inside where the game was just getting started. Summer was gossiping with her friends, and I noticed Pim’s ears perk up. He was the town’s main source of gossip since he ran into everyone at the diner.
“I heard Tiller Raine is dating his assistant,” Summer said. “But they have to keep it a secret because the assistant is married.”
“No, definitely not,” Vicki said, reaching for a chip and sinking it into one of the dips. “His assistant is his chef, and that guy is the coach’s son.”
Pim shoved into a spot between them on the overstuffed sectional sofa. “Tell me more. Is the assistant slash chef hot? You know how I feel about men who can cook…”
Diya almost choked on a sip of her wine. “God, I could go for a man who can cook. That’s number one on my wish list.”
“He’s hot,” a soft voice said from closer to the kitchen. I looked over and saw Truman Sweet, the shy young man who’d recently opened a spice shop near the diner. We’d met him the week before at the farmer’s market in town and had taken to him right away. “I mean… if you like geeky smaller guys like… um, anyway, and yes,” he said, pushing up his dark-framed glasses with a fingertip, “He’s Coach Vining’s son.”
His face was pink, but when he glanced up and saw Gent standing there in nothing but a Speedo, he flushed a dark red and immediately looked away.
“You know a lot about football,” Gent said, trying to be friendly.
“Oh no. Not at all. I only studied this particular game and its notable players in preparation for coming today.”
Awkward silence descended for half a beat before Doran stepped forward and took Truman by the elbow. “C’mon, cutie. Let’s find you something to drink, and you can tell me more about the hot assistant slash chef and his potential secret football boyfriend. It sounds like something out of a romance novel or a soap opera. One of the two, and I love both.”
While Gent wandered back to our bedroom to change clothes, I helped everyone get something to drink and find a place to sit. Two of my own coworkers showed up with their arms full of beer and more snacks. When Gent didn’t reappear, I went looking for him.
He stood in our bedroom barefooted and freshly showered, dressed in a chest-hugging T-shirt and clean khaki shorts. My heart did its usual Gentry thump when I locked eyes with him. “What’s taking so long?” I asked.
He held up a familiar piece of note paper. “I was looking for a clean pair of socks, and I found this in your sock drawer.” He glanced at me with the same calm affection he always did. “You kept this?”