CHAPTER ELEVEN

Before he even opened his eyes, Wyatt knew the bed he’d been sleeping in wasn’t his.

He knew this bed, though. Knew the mattress, the sheets, the particular natural scent of its regular occupant. Knew the occupant, intimately.

It was hard to forget the last time he’d woken up in this bed. He’d gone to make breakfast and had only figured out too late that Ryan had bailed. Escaped. Disappeared.

Wyatt reached out hesitantly, brushing the skin of Ryan’s arm. His rhythmic breathing didn’t change. Lying there, close enough to touch Ryan, he figured he had two choices.

One, get up and go start breakfast, like he’d done the last time. Hope that things would go differently and that Ryan wouldn’t leave.

Two, wake Ryan up himself, and guarantee that he wouldn’t leave because he didn’t want to.

It wasn’t even a choice. Door number one never had a chance. And maybe, Wyatt thought, pushing the sheet down his naked body, that wasn’t fair, but he’d been trying to play fair up until now, and that hadn’t gotten him anywhere.

Maybe it was time to play unfair.

Ryan’s breathing barely changed as Wyatt rolled over, and then nestled himself in the blankets kicked to Ryan’s feet.

His dick was still soft, but as Wyatt ran a tentative finger up the underside of his balls, he had a feeling that wouldn’t last long.

Wyatt had just wrapped his tongue around the head, and started sucking when he felt Ryan tense.

“I thought you were a dream,” Ryan said, voice soft and rough, as he reached down to cradle Wyatt’s head with his palm, running his fingers through his hair.

Wyatt traced a pattern on Ryan’s hardening cock with his tongue. “A good dream, I hope.”

He shouldn’t have worried, but some things were hard to shake, and Ryan literally running away after their first—or second, but who was counting?—night together was one of those. Maybe it would have been easier if they were something more than employee and employer, or convenience with added benefits.

But Ryan had made his feelings very clear, and Wyatt, having just gotten at least part of what he wanted, wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Speaking of gift horses and mouths, he lapped at the head of his, sucking off a little bit of pre-come.

“It had real potential,” Ryan observed sleepily.

Wyatt took that as a request to continue, so he did, trying to lose himself in Ryan’s taste and scent and the feel of his hardness against his tongue, in his mouth. And he did, swallowing his come with the glow of satisfaction on a job well done.

Almost.

Even when Ryan wrapped his big calloused hand around Wyatt’s dick, pumping him until he felt woozy from pleasure, he couldn’t quite forget that this was all supposed to mean nothing.

He’d never been good with hookups, he reasoned as he wandered back to his place for a quick shower before making breakfast. He just had to adjust to this new normal. Having Ryan was definitely better than not having him at all. That much was true.

“You’re quiet this morning,” Ryan said, pushing his toast around his plate, trying to sop up the rest of his over easy eggs. He looked up, grinning. “I figured earlier it was because you had my dick in your mouth but now you don’t have any excuses.”

“Maybe I’m tired,” Wyatt said, trying to match Ryan’s sly, teasing tone. “Someone kept me up most of the night.”

It had been so good it was hardly anything to complain about. But last night Wyatt had felt lost to the pleasure of finally getting what he’d craved so badly, and this morning he felt like he couldn’t drown out the voice in the back of his head that kept whispering, what’s next?

“And maybe,” he added, Ryan looking up, surprised at his serious tone, “I’m curious what happens next.”

“What happens next? Now that we’re faux-happily-ever-after poster children?”

Wyatt nodded and told himself firmly that the word shouldn’t sting. It was just a word. It didn’t mean anything, and Ryan didn’t mean anything cruel by it. It was the truth, plain and simple. He had agreed to be Ryan’s fake boyfriend, not his real one. Ryan couldn’t be held responsible for the feelings Wyatt couldn’t seem to help.

“Oh, I guess I should call Eric. I’m sure he’s been blowing my phone up with a bazillion messages after Matt left here last night.”

“Is there some sort of plan?” Wyatt didn’t even care what it was. But maybe if he knew, if he prepared himself in advance, it would be easier to deal with.

“Lots of plans, to be honest,” Ryan said. “Dozens, probably. Eric likes contingency plans. I think the last one he had involving you, and not someone else, was hosting a dinner party here. Something super couple-y, with lots of social media posts from the people invited. Way to generate some news buzz before we confirmed it.”

Wyatt cleared his throat. “We should do a barbecue instead of a dinner party. Something a little more casual.”

Ryan brightened at the idea. “That’s a good idea, actually. I knew you’d be great at this.”

Great at being a fake boyfriend. Wyatt internally raised his hand in a mini, half-hearted fist pump of triumph.

“Let me call Eric, and I’ll run the idea by him. Maybe in a day or two? How long do you need to plan something like that?”

“Plan it?”

Ryan laughed. “Like the food, silly. I’ll take care of the rest. Or Eric will. Or actually Eric’s assistant.”

“The food’s the easiest part,” Wyatt said with an eye roll as punctuation. “Promise, I can handle it. How many people?”

“Maybe ten? Fifteen? Tabitha and her boyfriend. Flor. Her kids. A few teammates if they’re in town. Eric, of course.”

“You’re going to invite Eric?” Wyatt was still on the fence about Ryan’s agent. He wasn’t sure which side he was on, or if he even acknowledged there were sides. Or if he just played everyone, maneuvering everyone exactly where he wanted them, like pieces on a chess board.

“Of course. He’s got to orchestrate this whole thing, right?” Ryan laughed, and the carefree edge to it hurt. Unintentionally of course.

You need to get yourself together.

This was what he had agreed to. This was the new normal. It was time to get his head and his heart on the same page, onto the same plan.

“Right, duh,” Wyatt said.

“But you liked Tabitha, right? And Flor?” Ryan sounded a little concerned, as if Wyatt might not like his friends or his family, which was ridiculous. Because what fake boyfriend required their approval?

“Of course I did,” Wyatt teased. “They’re hella intimidating, but strangely, unexpectedly, nice.”

Ryan beamed. “I think they’d take that as a high form of praise.”

“Well, I meant it.” Wyatt shoved his hands in his pockets. “So barbecue for fifteen. I can do that in my sleep.”

“That’s because you’re brilliant.” Ryan hopped off the barstool, slid his empty plate into the sink, and kissed Wyatt’s cheek. “I’m gonna go call Eric.”

“How about . . .” Wyatt hesitated, and then decided to just go for it. “Would it be okay if I invited some friends too?”

“I didn’t even know you knew anyone in LA. I’d love to meet your friends,” Ryan said, and sounded so god damned sincere, Wyatt wasn’t even sure he was acting. And maybe he wasn’t. Maybe that was the attitude Wyatt should take. It was all real, until it wasn’t.

“They’ve been super busy filming, but I bet I could drag them away for an evening,” Wyatt said. “You probably don’t watch any of the Five Points culinary shows, but they star in Pastry by Miles.”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “Tabitha works for Five Points. Not in the culinary department, because that would be an epic fucking disaster, but yeah, I do. Once in awhile. I heard about that new show. Heard it’s good.”

“Yeah, I worked at Terroir with Miles Costa. He and his boyfriend, Evan, produce the show and star in it.”

“Well, I’m dying to meet them,” Ryan declared. “Invite them!”

———

It was easy to suggest inviting Miles and Evan to the barbecue. It was another to actually do it.

“Did you drown in the Pacific?” Miles asked when he picked up the phone.

Like Miles hadn’t been so overwhelmed with filming the second season of Pastry by Miles, practically on top of finishing the first season, that he hadn’t bothered to keep in touch either.

“No,” Wyatt said testily, flicking through recipes on the iPad he’d set up on a cookbook stand. “I’ve been busy.” That was actually a lie, but Miles didn’t need to know that.

“Actually, Xander told me that you’re barely working at this private chef gig. Lots of time to experiment in the kitchen, time off to go surfing, all those extended naps in the afternoons.” Miles made the fairly innocent word nap sound as dirty as it could.

“That is . . . almost completely a lie,” Wyatt protested. He hadn’t been whiling away the afternoons by having wild sex with Ryan every day, though if the opportunity had come up, he wouldn’t have said no.

“Xander doesn’t lie,” Miles retorted. “That’s his whole problem.”

It was definitely one of Xander’s problems; he was painfully, bitterly honest. Wyatt wouldn’t say he was lacking in tact, more like it was completely absent from his vocabulary.

But Wyatt didn’t want to talk about Xander. Of course he didn’t really want to talk about himself either, so changed the subject. “How’s season two going?”

“Going to be a wild success, of course. Even better than season one. Cooking Channel has been making overtures about season three but I need to get Evan away from the studio before he forgets where we live.”

“You should get away like . . . tomorrow night, for example,” Wyatt offered.

“Tomorrow night? I was thinking more like a three-week trip to Fiji. One of those huts overlooking the water. No Wi-Fi, no laptop, no cellphones. Definitely no clothes.”

“That too,” Wyatt said, leaning against the kitchen counter. “But circling back to tomorrow night, Ryan and I are hosting a barbecue at his place, and you and Evan should definitely come.”

“You and Ryan?” Miles sounded suspicious, like he had a feeling where this was going, and really, honestly, he didn’t have a fucking clue.

“Ryan needs to give the impression that he’s settled and responsible to his team, so I’ve agreed to act as his . . . partner socially,” Wyatt improvised. It didn’t sound much better than saying the phrase, fake boyfriend, and Miles was going to figure it out in ten seconds flat, but it made him feel better.

“You’re going to be his fake boyfriend,” Miles said flatly. “And this barbecue is what, your coming out party?”

Miles had always been too smart for his own good.

“Yes,” was all Wyatt could say.

“We’ll be there,” Miles said with absolute finality, shocking the hell out of him. Wyatt had at least expected him to have to consult Evan and their mutual schedule together.

“Really?”

“You like the guy, right?” Miles asked.

“Uh, yeah, I guess. I mean, I don’t guess. I do. I do like him.”

“And you’re sleeping together.” Miles didn’t even phrase this as a question.

“How did you know?”

“Because,” Miles said impatiently, “that’s what always happens in these scenarios.”

“It’s not what you think,” Wyatt protested.

“I don’t think anything,” Miles said gently. “Only that you’ll probably put yourself out there and then get crushed to shit by the hot football player.”

“Baseball. He plays baseball.”

Miles’ silence in response was telling. So he’d nailed it on the head. It wasn’t necessarily going to end that way, there were lots of ways it could end. That was definitely the way Wyatt kept imagining though, and dreading.

“We’ll be there,” Miles finally repeated. “What time? Text me the address. Actually,” he paused. “Text Evan the address. He can add it to the schedule.”

“Sure.”

“Xander said he seemed nice.”

Wyatt nearly dropped the phone. “Xander hasn’t even met him yet!”

“I’m sure he did some sort of creepy digging. YouTube binge-watching all his interviews or whatever.”

“He means well,” Wyatt said. “He’s really worried about Kian. I’m surprised he made the time from his schedule of worrying about Kian to worry about me.”

Miles sighed. “When we first met him, I didn’t expect that he would end up so fiercely protective.”

Wyatt couldn’t help but be reminded of something Kian had said the other night. That just because he was an asshole didn’t mean he wasn’t deserving of love.

“Someday,” Wyatt promised, “we need to figure his shit out.”

Miles laughed. “Maybe when we don’t have enough shit of our own.”

“There,” Wyatt said, “I just texted Evan the address, and now he’s going to find you in approximately five point three seconds and demand to know what’s going on.”

“Probably.” Miles sounded happy about it. “Hey, you don’t need me to bring anything? Some sort of dessert?”

Miles was an incredibly talented pastry chef, and Wyatt probably should have taken him up on the offer. It wouldn’t be any trouble for him, even as busy as he was, and trouble and the effort for Wyatt would be far more substantial. But there was some stubborn part of him that wanted to make this dinner all himself. Also, it would definitely keep him involved and busy enough that he wouldn’t have the time to worry about what might happen at it.

“Nah, I’m good,” Wyatt said.

“Your loss,” Miles retorted. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Ryan walked back into the kitchen five minutes after he’d hung up with Miles.

“Everyone on my side is confirmed. Eric is thrilled,” Ryan said, making an expressive face of distaste.

“I bet he is,” Wyatt said. “Miles said he and Evan could come too.”

“Eric practically fell over himself at how excited he was that you knew the stars of Pastry by Miles. He likes the connection and they’re popular on social media. He thinks it’ll be a great fit.”

Wyatt had thought it would be a great fit because Miles and Evan were his friends. But apparently genuine friendship wasn’t all that was required these days.

“I’m sure he’s disappointed that you ended up with the slightly less famous chef from Terroir,” Wyatt said wryly.

Ryan surprised him by coming up next to him, and wrapping an arm around his waist, leaning in to brush a quick kiss across his lips. “But I’m not disappointed, and that’s all that matters,” he said seriously.

“Say that after I’ve attempted to make a dessert,” Wyatt joked weakly. He felt even less comfortable with how demonstrative and affectionate Ryan was now. Like the last barrier had been lifted and he could act however he wanted—and what he wanted was to act like Wyatt was his boyfriend.

Just go with it, don’t fight it, he reminded himself.

And in this scenario it meant acting like he’d just gotten what he wanted too: Ryan as his boyfriend.

“I’m sure it’s going to be great,” Ryan said loyally. “And I’m happy to help with whatever you need.”

Wyatt turned slightly, pulling Ryan fully into his arms. “What if what I need is a very dirty nap?”

Tugging on his hand, Ryan smiled slyly. “Then let’s go take a nap.”

———

The next day it was tough not to regret spending hours “napping” in Ryan’s bed. He’d had a big list of stuff to do, including shopping and prep, and instead he’d let himself be talked into a few hours of sex alternated by actual sleeping, followed by ordering pizza in and making out on the couch.

Frankly, it hadn’t even required much convincing on Ryan’s part, but Wyatt was slowly, but surely, getting to a better place with that.

Acting like they were just together with no weird faux bullshit had been the answer to all of Wyatt’s questions about what he should do. The strangest—and the best—thing was that Ryan didn’t ever hesitate, or pull back, or question anything Wyatt was doing.

It was all good. Great, really. Except that how great it had been yesterday meant that he was now at the grocery store at six in the morning, shopping for the barbecue.

“You really made me come grocery shopping,” Ryan whined, slouching against the cart, a hoody pulled over his head, eyes sleepy. “At six a.m.”

“Didn’t you tell me once that Colin O’Connor does his own grocery shopping?” Wyatt asked.

Ryan sighed. “I did tell you that, didn’t I?”

“He probably doesn’t go this early,” Wyatt suggested.

“I was going to say that if you’d ever met O’Connor, you’d know he probably does. But why would you have met Colin O’Connor?”

Wyatt elbowed him in the ribs. “Unfair. True, but unfair.”

“I mean, he’s okay. Everyone always wants us to be great friends, I guess because we’re both gay and athletes and out of the closet. But that’s not really much basis for a friendship, is it?”

Wyatt piled a handful of watermelons into the cart that Ryan was half-heartedly pushing. “You have a point.”

“He’s nice and all. But we’re not friends.”

“Yeah,” Wyatt teased, “you seem really happy about that.”

This time Wyatt caught an elbow to the ribs. “If he wanted to be friends, it’s not like I’d turn him down, but he’s so serious and settled down. I heard he and his husband were adopting. Or doing in vitro or something. That’s not really my scene.”

Wyatt could see that. “I think people who believe you’re friends are probably assuming that you two have experienced situations that nobody else has.”

“You’re saying he’s punched out a homophobic asshole on his team?” Ryan sounded so hopeful, it was hard not to be endeared even further. And Wyatt was already very endeared. He kept expecting to reach the ceiling on endeared, only to discover that it kept going up and up and up.

“He might have. That seems like the sort of thing he’d do,” Wyatt said. “And if you want me to be impressed at your prowess and convictions, I sure am.”

Ryan scoffed. “If I was trying to impress you, I’d do this.” And he pressed Wyatt against the cart in the middle of the produce section, hands pulling up Wyatt’s t-shirt and settling, cold and certain against his stomach. Wyatt was just about to protest, but Ryan kissed him instead, swallowing all his words.

There wasn’t anyone to see; nobody to photograph them. But Ryan did it anyway, so Wyatt decided when they finally broke apart that spontaneous kissing was definitely allowed. He was going to be taking a lot of advantage of that ability.

“Where are we on the list?” Ryan asked breathlessly, digging for it in his pocket. “You got watermelons. Did you get strawberries or mangos?”

“I think there’s also pineapple and avocado,” Wyatt said, pulling the cart towards the fruit displays because Ryan had given up on pushing it. He was whipped because that fact didn’t even annoy him.

“Double strawberries,” Ryan pointed out as Wyatt began to sort through the plastic containers. “Whatever that means.”

“It means that I need strawberries for the salsa and for dessert.”

“You know, you didn’t have to do this. We could have just gotten the dinner catered.”

Wyatt was still absorbed in picking strawberries. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that. I’m a professional, I can handle a little dinner party. Also, isn’t this why you hired me? Because I don’t think you hired me to make your smoothie or grill your chicken at night. Or give you a morning blowjob.”

“You’re very handy,” Ryan said in lieu of an apology. “I’m spoiled rotten, I know.”

Wyatt began loading pineapples in the cart, then moved onto mangos. “You absolutely are.”

“You love it,” Ryan teased, and Wyatt had to hold the answer back, because damnit, he did. He kept creeping closer to that revelation, and every minute they spent together like this, he sped up. Soon enough it was going to be inevitable that he didn’t just love that Ryan was spoiled rotten, but every damn thing about him.

“Where to next?” Ryan asked, shoving the pen behind his ear. “I think you got all the produce and the fruit.”

“You’re a good grocery shopping partner,” Wyatt pointed out as they headed towards the butcher. “I’m impressed.”

Ryan preened. “You’re never going to regret agreeing to be with me.”

He wasn’t wrong; even if it all went wrong, and Wyatt ended up with a broken, demolished heart, he didn’t think he’d regret it.

———

“Hiding out?”

Wyatt glanced up and saw Tabitha lingering in the kitchen doorway. He was putting the final touches on the main course of the barbecue—tri-tip steaks that he was planning on grilling and slicing thin.

All the cold salads were prepped and in the fridge. He’d set up the appetizer buffet in the backyard, and put Ryan in charge of drinks. Everything was coming together, and he was feeling calm and collected, until Ryan’s best friend decided to drop by the kitchen to check in.

He knew he wasn’t intimidated by Tabitha because of her beauty. It was probably because it felt like she saw right through him, past his skin and his rib cage, to the frantically beating heart underneath. The traitorous heart who was just about ready to topple head over heels in love with Ryan.

“I’m finishing up prep,” he said. “I’m not just here as the eye candy hanging off Ryan’s arm.”

Tabitha walked in, setting her glass on the counter with a click. “You’re not even here as eye candy.”

“Tell Eric, who’s already been through here, telling me to change my shirt, fix my hair, get ready for a hundred pictures that I’m apparently going to have to take tonight. All demonstrating just how hot Ryan’s new boyfriend is.”

Wyatt had told himself not to let Eric get to him, but it seemed to be a losing battle.

“Eric’s an asshole,” Tabitha said.

“That’s what everyone keeps saying,” Wyatt said crossly, “and yet we all still have to deal with him.”

“Someday, Ryan will get fed up, and he’ll dump him. For someone with an actual shred of empathy. But Eric makes him lots of money so that probably won’t happen for awhile.”

Tabitha didn’t need to point out that Wyatt would likely be long gone by that point.

“Are you here to take a selfie with me?” Wyatt finished rubbing the dry seasoning mix onto the meat, and then transferred it to the tray.

“Actually,” she said, “I’m here to ask if you need any help. Which seems a little ridiculous, I’ll admit, but my mother always tried to drill manners into me. Even if it was mostly unsuccessful.”

“Actually, you can help me,” Wyatt said. “Grab that salt, I need to season the meat and I don’t want to wash my hands again.”

“You’re going to let me do something this important?” Tabitha asked skeptically, while still coming around the corner of the island and picking up the salt shaker.

“It’s just salt. You seem very intelligent. I’m sure you can manage,” he teased.

“How much?” she asked, shooting him a grateful look. He didn’t imagine that many people upon meeting her for the first time noticed her intelligence first.

“Just shake it liberally all over,” he said. “And then the pepper grinder next.”

She did as directed, as he rubbed in the seasonings further. “Would it be patronizing to tell you that you did a good job?”

Tabitha shook her head. “I like praise, and you’re good at it.”

“Praise?” Wyatt questioned, as he walked over to the sink, scrubbing his hands under the spray.

“Yes, and putting people at ease,” she said. “That’s one of the reasons Ryan likes you.”

He turned, grabbing a paper towel to dry his hands off. “You mean that’s why Ryan picked me.”

“No,” she insisted with a sharp shake of her head, “that’s not what I said. That’s why he likes you.”

Before she could elaborate, Ryan burst in. “The grill’s ready, I think.”

“Good,” Wyatt said, hefting the tray.

“Miles and Evan just got here,” Ryan said, trailing after him, Tabitha bringing up the rear. “I love them already, though I was surprised at how uptight Evan is.”

“Everyone is, after they meet Miles,” Wyatt said.

“Miles and Evan?” Tabitha questioned. “From Pastry by Miles?”

“Yeah, they’re friends of mine. Miles and I worked together. Lived together too, for awhile.”

She let out a heavy sigh and shot a glare at her best friend. “And you didn’t tell me they were here? I’ve been dying to meet them!” She elbowed her way between Wyatt and Ryan, escaping out the back door first.

“Are you ready for this?” Ryan asked quietly as they paused on the threshold. To Wyatt’s surprise, he didn’t sound ready; he sounded apprehensive.

Wyatt looked out over at the crowd milling around the backyard. It had definitely looked more intimidating in his mind. But he wanted to reassure Ryan, so he leaned over, brushing a quick kiss over Ryan’s mouth. “Never readier.”

Wyatt headed straight to the grill; he needed to get the meat on so all these guests could get fed. He was glad, as he used the tongs to position it just so on the metal grid, that he’d planned for far more people, because there were definitely more than that in the backyard.

Probably more like twenty-five or thirty, if he was being honest.

“So this is the LA life, huh?” Miles asked from behind him.

Wyatt turned, and pulled him into a quick hug. “I’d like to remind you that you moved to LA before I ever thought about it.”

Evan was next to him, and got hugged too, because Wyatt was happy and feeling generous. “I’m so glad you guys are here,” he said.

“I can’t believe you’re dating Ryan Flores,” Evan said.

“I told you, babe,” Miles said, voice dropping in volume, “he’s not really dating Ryan Flores.”

Evan waved a dismissive hand. “Isn’t that all a matter of semantics?”

Technically, Wyatt didn’t think that Eric would think of it that way—and probably not Ryan either, no matter how affectionate he liked to be in bed. And outside of it. And in grocery stores.

“It’s a good move for you,” Miles said, clearly trying to sound positive. Except that while he’d never been a Debbie Downer like Xander, he’d never exactly been the cheerleader type either.

“The private chef job was a good move,” Wyatt corrected. “This is probably stupid, but I’m doing it anyway.”

Miles shrugged, and it was clear from his expression that he agreed with Wyatt. “As long as you’re happy.”

“I’d be happier with a drink,” Wyatt admitted. “Make sure the tri-tip doesn’t spontaneously combust while I grab one.”

Miles nodded, but eyed the grill with trepidation. He was a pastry chef, and happiest—and most comfortable—around desserts. He could deal with some savory preparations, but barbecue was definitely beyond his skill level.

Meanwhile Wyatt headed towards the makeshift bar that Ryan had set up in the shade. There were metal bins full of ice and bottles of beer, as well as a few bottles of various white wines.

He grabbed a beer from the bin and was just looking around for a bottle opener, when Tabitha showed up, a handsome blond man in tow.

“Wyatt, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, Calvin.”

Wyatt reached out and shook his hand. He had frankly appraising blue eyes and a firm grip. The fact that Tabitha’s expression and voice softened as she talked about him made him like Calvin already.

“Cal,” he said in a friendly voice. “Call me Cal. If you do, I’ll keep pretending that I don’t already know all about you.”

Wyatt raised an eyebrow. He finally located the bottle opener and popped the top off. Taking a long drink, he realized mid-sip that meant Ryan had been talking about him.

“What do I have to do to get the details?” he asked with a grin.

Cal laughed and Tabitha snickered. “You’re going to feed me homemade tri-tip with the fixings,” he said. “And I’m sure Tabitha told you she can’t cook. I’m grateful enough that I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

“Calvin,” Tabitha admonished in a low voice.

“What?” he asked innocently. “Should I not tell him how crazy we know Ryan is for him?”

“We could,” she said primly, “but that is none of our business.”

It wasn’t, but Wyatt couldn’t help but wonder if it was true. And then, if it was true, why Ryan kept insisting that their relationship had to be pretend.

“How about you tell me why Ryan is so scared of relationships that he has to hire a boyfriend who’d be perfectly happy to date him for real?” Wyatt asked, wondering if he was giving too much away, then deciding he didn’t give a crap. Tabitha definitely had seen through him, and he wouldn’t be shocked if Calvin weren’t right there behind her.

“That,” Cal said, “is unfortunately beyond my pay grade. You’re going to have to ask Ryan about that.”

Tabitha muttered something that suspiciously sounded like, “but he won’t tell you.”

It wasn’t like Wyatt had necessarily expected Ryan’s friends to sell him out, even to a guy who was crazy about him. But he did learn one thing; that there was definitely some reason why Ryan would opt for something pretend instead of something real.

“I’ve got to go check on the meat,” he said, “but it was great to meet you.” They shook hands again, and Wyatt was off to the grill again, but Eric waylaid him in the middle of the yard.

“There you are,” he said, putting his arm around him, like Wyatt had seen him do with Ryan more than once. Ryan hadn’t seemed to have much compunction in just shrugging him off, like a pesky fly, but Wyatt knew he should tread a little more carefully. After all, while Ryan signed the checks for both Wyatt’s jobs, Eric cut them.

He didn’t know if he should feel more or less bothered thinking of Eric as his boss, instead of Ryan.

“I need to check on the food,” Wyatt protested, even as Eric steered him towards a pocket of people underneath one of the big trees. The group included Ryan, and Wyatt shouldn’t have felt a twinge of nerves, but he did. This was it, then, the very first time he met strangers and got introduced as Ryan’s new boyfriend.

“What you need is to mingle, and meet your boyfriend’s friends,” Eric said pointedly, hitting Wyatt’s suspicions right on the head.

Wyatt felt his palm dampen against the beer bottle in his hand, but he lifted his chin. “Hey, babe,” he said, directing his comment at Ryan.

“Look who I found, hiding out,” Eric said, laughing obnoxiously. “I told him he needed to join the party.”

Wyatt’s dislike of the man grew exponentially. He hadn’t been hiding; he was in charge of the food for this party so if he disappeared to take care of something, he shouldn’t need an excuse. And now he was being forced to present one.

“This your new guy?” a gorgeous African-American guy with dreads and kind eyes asked.

On cue, Ryan walked over to Wyatt, and finally Eric let him go—probably only because it was Ryan’s turn to take over. Except that Ryan didn’t eagerly walk over, excited to introduce his new boyfriend to his friends. He practically dragged his feet and his whole persona exuded reluctance.

“Yeah, this is Wyatt.”

Wyatt couldn’t explain it. Ryan had kissed him in the middle of the grocery store. He’d hardly been private about it. Never mind that this was all his idea. Wyatt was only playing the part that he’d been asked to play.

Ryan leaned and gave him a quick, perfunctory kiss that didn’t resemble anything like one he’d given Wyatt before the party. Wyatt told himself that he was thinking too much; if Ryan was a little apprehensive over this whole charade, that was fine. It wasn’t like Wyatt himself hadn’t had a few anxious moments. This was a big deal, and the very first time. It would get better, and Ryan would seem less stiff and less like he wanted to be somewhere else—or with someone else.

“Picture,” Eric demanded, and while Wyatt wanted to refuse, he didn’t.

It was easy enough for him to wrap his arms around Ryan and press a loud kiss to his cheek as the camera clicked, because he wasn’t playing a role. Ryan let him, even leaning in a little, and the soft look in his eyes as Wyatt pulled away made him think that maybe he’d imagined the whole thing.

“Hi, I’m Andrew,” the handsome man said, reaching out to shake his hand, acting like this was all normal. “I’m happy that Ryan’s finally met someone. Where did you meet, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Temple, actually,” Ryan said quickly. “Can you believe it?”

If Andrew looked a little more disbelieving now, it wasn’t like Wyatt could blame him. Nobody ever met a boyfriend at Temple. Found hookups, yeah, but long-term happy relationships, rarely.

“You should go with me sometime,” Ryan added.

This time Andrew looked at him weirdly. “You’re still going to Temple? By yourself?”

Of course he wouldn’t be. You went to Temple alone or with a group of friends to find a hookup. And Ryan didn’t need a hookup if he had a boyfriend at home.

“We like to dance,” Wyatt covered for Ryan, who was just standing there, silent.

“Then maybe I will,” Andrew said. He seemed nice and very friendly, and Wyatt thought they might be friends, except that he had a feeling Ryan wouldn’t be on board with that plan.

He couldn’t say why, exactly, though the reason probably lay with the guarded look in Ryan’s eyes.

“I’ve got to go check on the food,” Wyatt said, excusing himself. “But it was great to meet you.”

———

Wyatt rarely checked his social media accounts and rarely posted on them. That hadn’t stopped Eric’s “communications manager” from vetting all of them, even though he had nothing to hide. He’d been reminded by Eric three times tonight that he would be expected to start posting, beginning with tonight and for the foreseeable future.

So when he checked the tri-tip, he took a pic of the grill, and posted to Instagram. He was still a chef, and food had always figured so prominently in his posts before. He figured it would be good to keep things normal.

He did notice that several people had taken pics of him, and tagged him in them. One of the posters was Andrew, who was apparently a third baseman for the Dodgers. Andrew, who Wyatt was about sixty-five percent sure was gay and still in the closet, had tagged him in the picture of him and Ryan, and called them the “cutest couple I know #relationshipgoals.”

They weren’t relationship goals. They could barely speak to each other out here in the yard, though everything had felt perfectly fine before they’d walked out here. Wyatt fought back the inclination to announce that the party was over, and drag Ryan back in the house, where everything made sense.

“Hey.”

Wyatt glanced up and Ryan was standing there, an apology in his eyes.

“Everything okay?” Wyatt asked, keeping his voice light and casual. They were still figuring this fake relationship out, and balancing it with their private lives. That was hard. They wouldn’t get it right instantly.

“That was weird back there,” Ryan confessed. “I knew we were going to do it, I just didn’t think it through.”

“It’s okay, I think everyone assumed it was normal,” Wyatt said.

“Yeah,” Ryan grinned, “because you’re a stealth ninja and you slipped that line in about liking to dance. I thought I’d blown it big-time.”

So Ryan wasn’t really apologizing—or not apologizing—for his general standoffish behavior, but for accidentally inviting Andrew to Temple without Wyatt.

Still, he was here and he was sorry. Even if he hadn’t said it explicitly.

“A ninja, huh?” Wyatt grinned. “I love the sound of that.”

Ryan leaned in and kissed him, this time nothing perfunctory or quick. He even slipped in a little tongue, wrapping his arm firmly around Wyatt’s waist. It was easy to forgive him when he kissed like that—like Wyatt was his whole world and this wasn’t a charade at all.

“Food’s almost done?” Ryan asked, stroking a hand up and down his back. “Smells awesome.”

“Yeah, could you go grab the cold salads? You might need an extra pair of hands. Then we can get ready to slice this in a few minutes.”

Ryan nodded, and took off, collecting Cal to help.

It was so easy to forget the early uncomfortableness in the low-key excitement of the party as the food was served, everyone gathering family style around a big table Ryan had set up outside in the yard.

He took about twenty selfies, and from his constantly vibrating phone in his back pocket, assumed most of them had been posted and he’d been tagged.

The party started slowing down a few hours later, even though Ryan had lit the fire pit.

Wyatt had gravitated towards it, lounging against a bench seat, with a beer dangling in his hand. He felt so mellow, like nothing could disturb his much-won peace. A few people had stopped by to chat, including Tabitha and Andrew. When Ryan slid in next to him, his arm going around his shoulders, Wyatt assumed the party was mostly over.

“It went well, don’t you think?” Ryan asked. He sounded just about as relaxed as Wyatt felt, and he couldn’t help but be relieved at that. He’d worried that Ryan would stay uptight, but that hadn’t happened. He’d relaxed into the role, and even though he didn’t act exactly as he did when they were alone, it was close enough that Wyatt wasn’t going to angst about it.

“I think it went great,” Wyatt said honestly.

“Eric said a few outlets have already picked it up. They all think you’re very cute and that we’re very cute together.”

“Well, that doesn’t feel too far from the truth,” Wyatt said smugly.

“Even TMZ posted,” Ryan said.

“Who’s TMZ?”

Ryan laughed. “I think we did forget one thing tonight, though.” He held up his phone. “We didn’t take a selfie together to cement our very cute couple-ship.”

“I took about a thousand selfies,” Wyatt protested.

“So, what’s one more?” Ryan pointed out.

Which is how they ended up with a very cute picture on Ryan’s Instagram—the palms and twinkly lights of the backyard in the background, with the glow of the fire pit reflected in their faces, pressed closely together.

“I’m going to caption this #bestnightever,” Ryan announced.

“You don’t think that’s a bit of an exaggeration?” Wyatt asked lazily. He was dreaming about bed. Ryan’s or his—he wasn’t sure he cared at the moment. It had been a long day.

“I don’t, actually.” Ryan’s voice sounded serious, devoid of any teasing edge, and Wyatt thought that he might actually be telling the truth.