The next couple of days were a dreamscape of flirting with Saint Wilde during impromptu “self-defense lessons” and daydreaming of him during my time at the shop. He was busy covering extra classes at Twist for Neckie and visiting his new niece on the side.

Our time at Twist in the evenings was more touching and horny wrestling than actual self-defense, but somehow those sessions left me feeling stronger and lighter at the same time. Simply being around the baby-faced SEAL made me feel alive in a way I never had before. It may have been corny and cheesy, but it was still true.

With the USB drive tucked safely away in a secure cubby at Hobie First National and the writing slope itself locked in Melody’s ground safe in the barn, I finally had a sense of peace I hadn’t had before, and the couple of nights Saint stayed over at the farmhouse with me had gone a long way toward helping me get used to sleeping in my own bed again.

We’d had a conversation about what to do regarding the information inside the box, but ultimately I’d decided to take a few days to think on it. The last thing I wanted to do was rush into confronting my family directly against my grandfather’s wishes. And now that Brett thought I no longer had the box, maybe I was safe after all.

As for Saint, I wasn’t quite sure what was happening.

There were two sides of myself at war. Part of me fantasized that Saint and I were in the early stages of an actual relationship. When he was around, he showered me with attention and treated me like a unique treasure. We talked for hours about anything and everything—his time in the navy, my time in school and working at the auction house, our families, our favorite movies and music. But then there was the part of me that knew the truth. Saint Wilde couldn’t possibly be the type of guy to settle for one man, and if he was, that man certainly wouldn’t be a small nerd with a penchant for spewing obscure facts about seventeenth century table leg shapes. Someone like Saint would want a beautiful international fashion model or a strong, brave soldier type like himself. Regardless, he’d choose someone with confidence and poise, not a man who was scared of his own shadow and who thought rifling through dusty estate sales was the best thing ever.

The “fantasy boyfriend Augie” waited for calls and texts, swooned when Saint stopped by the shop with a mocha and biscotti from Sugar Britches “just because,” and felt unsteady cardiac rhythms when awaking in the warm protective circle of Saint’s arms.

The “lame-ass geek Augie” hid behind a giant plastic pumpkin to avoid running into Saint when he was spotted with his grandfathers outside of Ritches Hardware, idly wondered what other gay men in Hobie Saint was hooking up with when he wasn’t with me, and felt absolute certainty this whole thing was a mental fabrication and proof my mental capacity was slowly but definitively running off the rails.

It wasn’t until Friday morning that Geek Augie began to wonder if Boyfriend Augie might actually become a reality.

“Will you please come to the ranch for dinner with my family tomorrow night?” Saint asked from his spot next to the Edwardian stand mirror behind my checkout counter. He’d stopped in after finishing an early kickboxing class that had left him deliciously flushed and sweaty.

“What?” I asked. The sight of him was so distracting, I thought he’d invited me to meet the family.

“Family dinner tomorrow. Will you please come?”

Huh? I tilted my head at him. Surely, he hadn’t meant to ask me that. I needed to stall him to give my brain time to process.

“I thought the Halloween bonfire was tomorrow?”

Saint nodded, a lock of his blond hair falling over one eyebrow. “No, that’s next weekend. Grandpa always runs a chili test night the weekend before, but we do have our own Wilde bonfire at the ranch on chili night.”

My pulse sped up. “Are you… are you asking me to…”

I couldn’t finish the question. My eyes skittered here, there, everywhere but made damned sure not to catch Saint’s own gray-blue gaze.

A throaty chuckle came from his chest. “Babe. You’ve already met my family around town. Why are you being strange about this?”

I snuck a glance at him and swallowed hard. “What will they think I’m there for?”

Saint’s eyes narrowed. “Chili. They’ll think you’re there for dinner, Augie.”

I turned to punch random numbers into my cash register tablet as if I was busy ringing up twelve customers at once instead of the zero customers who were in my store at the moment.

“I’m not hungry,” I said lamely. “I never really liked chili. And also, bonfires are the leading cause of forest fires.”

My entire body broke out in a sweat, and my stomach lurched. What was I doing? And why couldn’t I shut up?

I heard him shift and stalk closer to me. Warm hands slid from my hips to my stomach, pulling me gently until my back rested against Saint’s chest and his chin nudged my hair.

“You’re not hungry because you just had lunch. This is tomorrow night’s dinner we’re talking about. You have plenty of time to get hungry for it. There will be other things there besides chili. And the forest fire thing is complete bullshit, not to mention the fact my brother Otto will be there. And he’s an actual firefighter.”

I clenched my teeth.

“Augie, if you don’t want to go out with me, you can just say so.”

The disappointment in his voice surprised me. Maybe this actually meant something to him.

“It’s not that,” I admitted, turning to look at him. “I’ve just never… um. I’ve never been introduced to a family as somebody’s something before. And I didn’t know whether you… I mean, are we… that is to say, I don’t need to be somebody’s something. I don’t want to assume that there’s anything going on that needs to be defined or… labeled. Because that’s just unnecessariness—”

Unnecessariness? Stop talking, you idiot.

I felt like I was probably going to vomit and shit myself simultaneously, which would explain Saint’s attraction to me.

If he was insane.

“I would love to introduce you to my family as someone I’m currently seeing, but if that’s uncomfortable for you, I could always introduce you as a friend. Which is silly, honestly, considering they already know you and you won’t need to be introduced to anyone anyway.”

Currently seeing.

That sounded both wonderful and temporary. I silently debated what would happen if anyone in my family found out I was officially “seeing” a man.

“Yeah, okay,” I kind of squeaked. “That’s good. Food, family, and fire. Did you know those ancient rituals have remained the same for tens of thousands of years?”

Fuck. Not historical facts. Not now.

I continued for the sake of clarification. “Longer than that, really. Evidence shows humans have been controlling fire for around a million years. Or, more accurately, 700,000 years according to evidence found in Wonderwerk Cave in South Africa.” I cleared my throat to continue when I saw Saint’s lips pressed together and his eyes dancing with suppressed laughter. I let out a noisy breath. “Asshole,” I muttered.

“Don’t be nervous,” he said with a sweet smile. “And that’s not easy for me to say considering you’re cute as hell when you’re nervous.”

“Shut up.”

“Even though we’ve established its unnecessariness, is it okay with you that I call you my date?”

“Why do I even give you the time of day?”

I pretended to rearrange the pair of large bronze candelabra on a nearby table. Saint stalked me again, pulling me into his embrace and bending over to nip at the spot on my neck he knew drove me crazy.

“Oh god,” I whispered as a shiver ran through me. “Cheater.”

“Holy mother of pearl, what is happening in here?” The familiar high-pitched screech of Stevie Devore shot through the room from the shop doorway. Saint and I jumped apart—me with my hand on my heart and Saint with a hand at his side where I’d sometimes seen him carrying a weapon in a holster. Today there was no weapon.

“Jesus, Stevie,” I called out. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Looks like Mr. Wilde here was scaring the spit out of you, more like,” Stevie said with a wink as he sauntered over toward me. “You two trying something on? Not that I can blame you—Saint here is hot stuff. Not that I’d notice, mind you. I have a hot fire chief at home.”

“Damned straight,” Chief Paige muttered from the doorway. “Can you stop racing ahead? I swear you move at the speed of actual speed.”

Stevie looked back over his shoulder at the older man. “Keep up, Daddy, or I’ll have to trade you in for a younger model.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Gramps?”

“Mpfh.” The sexy fire chief leaned over to scoop up Milo from his spot in an overstuffed armchair. “Hiya, cutest. Give me some love.”

“In a minute,” Stevie said, oblivious to the fact his man had been addressing the cat. “I’m here for the…” His eyes caught on the vintage gramophone that was playing Van Morrison’s “Into the Mystic.” “What’s with the loud flower?”

“That is an Edison phonograph from 1902,” I explained. Stevie looked at the big petal-shaped bell speaker with a blank stare.

“A record player, sweetheart,” Chief Paige added, slipping an arm around Stevie.

“You mean, like those old CDs? This thing plays those?”

The older man narrowed his eyes at his younger boyfriend. “You damned well know what a record player is. Don’t fuck with me. Remember what happened earlier this morning when you asked if I wanted Metamucil in my coffee?”

Stevie’s face turned bright red. “I, uh, got a spanking.”

“Damned straight you got a spanking. You want to see what happens to that pink ass when you get another one on the same day?”

Now my face turned bright red. I lectured my eyeballs not to even think about turning Saint’s way, but they disobeyed me. Saint’s gaze burned a hole into me and filled my dick in about two seconds. If Saint Wilde laid a hand on my butt, I would probably orgasm instantly. Even the idea of it was doing unsettling things to every single cell in my body.

“Ahem, well, that’s… something,” I managed to squeak out. “But no. This thing plays vinyl records which were the de facto format for playing music for over eighty years. Then there were eight-track tapes, then cassette tapes, then CDs, then MP3, then streaming. This particular record player is over a hundred years old.”

I could see Stevie contemplating whether or not to make another age joke at the chief. All it took was one steaming-hot glance from the fire chief to change Stevie’s mind.

“Hm. Well, it’s pretty at least,” he said instead. “Where’s my dress?”

Stevie had asked me to source a lookalike Marilyn Monroe dress for his Halloween costume and a formal top hat for the chief’s. I wasn’t quite sure how the two of them went together, but it wasn’t my place to ask.

“It’s upstairs. Let me grab it.”

As I passed Saint, he reached out a finger to graze the back of my hand. A flock of feral butterflies banged every which way inside my stomach, and I thought my heart might hammer straight out of my chest. Once I got upstairs to the apartment where I stored some of my overflow items, I took a minute to close my eyes and catch my breath.

When I opened my eyes again, I noticed the wooden chest. Something about it didn’t look right. The lid wasn’t fully seated, and there was a large scrap of fabric hanging out of one side. I would have never left it like that. Fabric snagged against old wood was a pet peeve of mine. And my part-time employee wouldn’t have had any reason to be up here in that part of the space at all.

“Saint!” I yelled downstairs before I had a chance to stop myself. I tried to calm myself down. “Um, Saint?”

The sound of his heavy footfalls taking the stairs two at a time kept me from turning tail and running. He hit the top of the stairs at a dead run and almost ran into me before skidding to a stop. “What is it?”

I pointed to the chest. “Someone’s been in here. That’s not how I left it.”

He looked around and quickly moved to investigate all the potential hiding spots in the room before approaching the chest. Saint knew from my description days before that I’d mentioned this chest to my cousin. He also knew that the chest was full of Melody’s vintage clothes and photo albums, which meant it didn’t have enough space left in it for a person to hide. Had there been room for a body in there, I might have already been passed out in a puddle of my own piss from fear.

Saint lifted the lid. Everything inside the chest had been tossed around. A few books and photos were scattered in heaps and rucked up to one side tangled among sequins and feathers. Somewhere in the mix, I spotted my original copy of the Hot Wheels Collectors Guide. It was a book I’d had for years since Rory had given it to me for my birthday one year. After pulling it from the debris, I was grateful to see it was undamaged. I held the slim volume to my chest.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” I asked in a shaky voice. “Brett.”

Saint’s arm came around my waist as we both peered into the mess. “Looks like it. I’m sorry, Augie.”

“But why? I just don’t understand it. How does he know Grandfather put that USB in there?”

He pulled me around in front of him and held my chin gently between his thumb and forefinger. “I think we should go to Dallas and meet with your grandfather. Find out what’s going on. Until we get to the bottom of this, you’re never going to feel safe.”

He was right, of course, but the idea of confronting my family about anything made me sick.

“They’re going to accuse me of stirring up drama. They’re going to think I’m greedy.”

“They’re wrong.”

“You guys okay up there?” It was Chief Paige’s voice, booming in his no-nonsense work voice.

“All clear, Chief,” Saint called down. “Be there in a second.”

His hand cupped my cheek. “Will you let me take the lead on this? Please?”

“What do you mean?”

“I think we should arrange a meeting with your grandfather at the Landen offices.”

“Why? We can just go to my aunt’s birthday dinner tonight and stay after?” I’d forgotten all about Prima’s birthday celebration that night, but Saint’s mention of his own family dinner the following night had reminded me.

Saint’s face widened in a grin.

“What?” I asked. “Why do you look like you just pulled one over on me?”

“You said we. You invited me to dinner with your family.”

Fuck.

“No,” I said, trying desperately to backtrack. The very idea of taking Saint to a family event where surely everyone would be able to see me giving him heart eyes made my stomach butterflies manic. “I meant me and… Milo.”

He pulled me in close until our chests were pressed together. “No you didn’t.”

“Saint, I…” How did I tell him I wasn’t ready to come out to my family while all this other shit was going on?

“Baby, relax. I’m not going to be anything other than your security presence if that’s what’s most comfortable for you. But I’m sure as hell not allowing you around your cousin without protection.”

Maybe I should have been annoyed at his bossiness, but I totally wasn’t. I loved every fucking minute of him wanting to protect me.

“Will it bother you if I don’t introduce you as… something else?”

Great, now I was talking in prude code. I needed to grow the hell up.

“Augie, it will bother me more to see you upset. Whatever you need is fine with me. You forget that I lived plenty of years under Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, and even when it ended, I still understood many people’s choice to stick with it. When, how, and if you decide to come out to your family is completely up to you. I support whatever is best for you.”

Of course he did. It only really mattered in a long-term relationship, and he wasn’t planning on sticking around. The man lived in Dallas and traveled all over the world with his job. Once this assignment was over, he’d be back in some pop star’s world getting lusted after by thousands of rabid fans.

“Fine,” I muttered, seriously depressed all of a sudden at the reminder this was all temporary. As soon as we solved the danger I was in, there would be no reason for Saint to stick around in Hobie. “Whatever. Let’s go to Dallas.”

Saint’s smile faltered and he looked at me with concern. Before he had a chance to ask me about my sudden mood shift, I faked a smile and leaned up for a kiss. “Sorry, just stressed about seeing my family if they’re the ones behind this.”

Lie.

I’d face a thousand jackass Stiels if it meant I could keep one baby-faced Wilde.