The palisade had been my special place growing up. I would go there to think, to dream. To wonder if something was wrong with me when most of the other kids in my graduating class dreamed of leaving our small town and rushing off to San Fran, New York, or a million other cities that had much more exciting things to offer than tiny shops, forests, and cold beaches. I never had those dreams. I tried to make myself. Even attempted rock-star fantasies. They never lasted more than a moment. Hell, I’d made it a solitary semester in college before rushing home.

The rest of the world was fine, but Lavender Shores was in my blood. In my twenties, I’d still sit at the top of the palisade, staring out at the sea, and dream of a man coming to town and loving me. Of fulfilling my fantasies of house, home, picket fence, kids, and a dog. Maybe a hamster or two. Though I’d never admit as a grown man to being such a sick romantic, I’d picture Sandra Bullock in Practical Magic, casting her spell up to the stars, calling her perfect lover to her. I didn’t have a spell, but I’d pick the petals from the lavender and toss them over the cliff, watching them fall or sometimes get caught up in the breeze. Each one carried a small vision of what I hoped my future would be.

Those fantasies dried up with each little heartbreak and were pounded into dust by the larger ones. But still, I’d visit the palisade, and for a moment, I’d feel a man’s strong arms around me, the scruff on his cheek scratch against mine. Maybe that would never happen in real life, but in those moments, in the beautiful, sad moments, those sensations were enough.

As Joel pulled me against him, his warm breath tickling my skin as we watched the rain over the lavender and sinking sun, I held my tears at bay.

He’d come. Just like the sheriff with his two-colored eyes and his shiny pointed star had answered Sandra’s spell.

He’d come. Strong arms around my chest, around my heart.

We weren’t on the cliff like I’d pictured, but this was better. The palisade was there, and we were in a home I loved. Though I knew it would hurt later, hurt so much, I let myself get lost in the illusion that Joel Rhodes was actually my man, and this was our house; we would love, build a home, raise a family, and grow old—all by the forest, the sea, and the lavender cliffs.

I twisted away from the window and captured Joel’s mouth with mine. Pouring every bit of those years of longing into the kiss. Searing every sensation to my mind. The feel of his large strong hands, one on my neck, the other on the small of my back, pulling me to him, seemingly unable to get me close enough. His small gasps told me he was as caught up as I was. My heart soared higher and freer than I’d dared to hope.

As we kissed, Joel moved his hands from my back and neck to hold both sides of my face, as his tongue caressed mine with slow exploration. His thumbs smoothed over my skin.

I slipped my hands from under his arms and then up over his shoulders, holding him as close as I could. My mind screamed over and over again. Words I shouldn’t think. Words that made no sense. I couldn’t love him. Not really. Even in that moment of magic, I knew they weren’t true. I didn’t know him enough to love him. If I spoke those three words out loud, the magic would break, and I’d be alone at the window. Just me and my palisades.

The kiss went on. And on. Both of us rock-hard against each other, but neither reaching down, somehow knowing that too would break the spell. So we kissed. The shower outside became a downpour, beating a heavy rhythm on the roof and windows, casting one more charm over us.

The kiss went on. Hands roamed over bodies.

Time stood still and my heart slipped away.

Until at last, Joel broke the kiss and looked into my eyes. To my amazement, the spell didn’t break. His thumbs continued their caress, his body stayed firm and hard against mine. He looked into my eyes, and I saw the forever. Past the heat and lust, I saw forever. Saw our lives in this little house. Saw three kids. Two dogs. Saw laughter, fights, and lovemaking. Saw our hands clasped as our skin aged.

I saw his declaration of love in his green eyes as clearly as my heart shouted it from my chest.

Joel leaned in, kissed me once more, and then pulled away.

His eyes had changed. The walls were back, but something different was there, though I couldn’t name it.

The spell was broken, and the rain slowed.

Joel took a step back and attempted a subtle adjustment of his pants. Then he smiled. “You really are something, Andrew Kelly.” His tone still held some lingering magic, a bit of wonder, audible over a hint of fear.

I couldn’t speak. If I did, I’d break, both from living that dream for an instant and from the loss of it.

The tip of his tongue darted over his lower lip, and he smiled again, a gentle thing. “I know it’s early, but you wanna grab dinner?” He glanced away, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was nervous, but then he looked back. “Then spend the night with me, maybe?”

Again, words weren’t a good idea, so I nodded.

Maybe some of the magic remained.

Maybe.

The silence was oppressive as I drove back to town. It didn’t feel tense, just awkward. I tapped the power button on the radio and music blared. I cranked the volume down quickly.

I could feel Joel’s stare, so I glanced his way. “What?”

“Country? Really?”

Shit, of course he wouldn’t like country. He was a city boy. “Yeah. Cliché, I guess, right?”

He snorted. “Hardly. You’re in a fancy tourist town in northern California, not some Farmville place in the Bible Belt.”

I dared another look from the road and grinned at him. “You should google images of some of the male country singers. One look at their asses in those tight jeans, and you’ll hum a different tune.”

“Doubtful.” He took my hand, erasing the earlier awkward moment. “I’ve seen your fine ass in jeans. Guarantee not one of them look that good.” Then that wicked, wicked smile. “And don’t even get me started on how good it looks outta jeans.”

If my stomach hadn’t growled at that exact moment, I’d have suggested skipping dinner entirely.

We parked my truck at Blue Blossom and walked to the restaurant. I paused at the front door of Mabel’s. “This look okay? It’s not fancy.”

Joel didn’t even glance at the restaurant. “I don’t need fancy. Just a quick meal so I have the energy to last as long as you can take tonight.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I simply pushed open the door and walked in. If I didn’t, I might jump him right there on the sidewalk.

Joel had barely stepped inside when a voice called out across the restaurant, and I wanted to crawl into a hole. “Andrew! Andrew!”

For a split second, I thought about running. With or without Joel. It was Friday. And I was an idiot. I’d simply wanted a place from my childhood to merge with the fantasy of Joel. Or if it wasn’t a fantasy, then to be part of whatever was happening between us. Instead, my actual childhood had shoved its way in.

I forced a smile at my nutjob of a father, who stood waving at us like we might not notice the crazy man in the yellow shirt, yelling in the small space. Already letting go of any hope of this going smoothly, or at least subtly, I muttered to Joel, “I’m so sorry about this.”

Before he had a chance to respond, I led him to the table.

Fuck me for not considering them being at Mabel’s. They were always at Mabel’s.

Dad beamed, and his gaze wandered over Joel’s body then settled back on his face. “Well, aren’t you even better-looking up close?” He glanced at me. “I see you went back today to offer tour-guide services to the visitor. Very friendly of you.”

“Oh, Robert, your boy did more than that. You should’ve seen these two this morning. I swear, just being in the same room with them caused a hot flash so strong I had to soak my feet in ice water to get rid of it.” Regina lifted her martini glass toward us. “Plus, I’m betting the tour services started last night.”

Regina’s husband placed his hand over her arm. “Perhaps not announcing that to the world would be a pleasant option, dear. Or at least not to everyone at Mabel’s.”

Dad made a shooing motion toward him. “Oh, don’t be silly. It’s early. The place isn’t even halfway full.” He winked at me. “I wondered when your car didn’t follow us from the parking lot last night. I even told Debbra; I said, ‘How much you wanna bet that—’”

Mom’s voice rose. “Do not repeat what you said last night.” She stood and offered her hand to Joel. “Hello, I’m Debbra Kelly, Andrew’s mom. And the insane person is his father.”

Joel was wide-eyed, but his grin suggested he was enjoying every second of this. He took my mom’s hand. “Joel Rhodes. Pleasure to meet you.”

As soon as he released Mom’s hand, Dad was up and wrapping Joel in his arms, though they didn’t make it quite all the way around Joel’s more muscular frame. “Welcome to the family, or the town, or whatever you and my boy are up to. So very happy to see my boy is—”

“Shut up, Dad.” I smacked his arm, harder than I meant to, causing Joel to look over at me, still grinning.

Dad pulled away, nonplussed, and motioned to the others. “These are our best friends, Regina and Patrick Bryant, though it sounds like you’ve already met Regina and gave her quite the show.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “I’m a little miffed you failed to bring this up. Dinner is nearly half over.”

She shrugged. “Honestly, I am too. I blame Gilbert. Him calling to say he’s thinking of selling Patrick’s dad’s old place. Well, I just can’t—”

“You know, Joel and I will get out of your hair. I didn’t even think about you all being here.” I hadn’t considered how selling the old Bryant place would affect Gilbert’s folks.

“Nonsense! You’re joining us.” Dad started to grab two chairs from a nearby table and move them over. “Scoot down, Deb, my dear.”

She smacked his arm as well, though not as hard as I had. “Let them be, Robert. For crying out loud.”

Dad rubbed his arm, glaring playfully at Mom and me, then up at Joel. “Do you see the abuse I have to endure? Please join us. I need a witness to my suffering.”

Dear God. He was flirting. Mom rolled her eyes and sighed, and I knew the battle was lost.

Though clearly amused, Joel had the decency to look at me questioningly and wait for my nod before sitting down.

“Wonderful!” Dad clapped his hands and motioned to the waitress. “Sweetie, two menus, please!” He plopped back down and had eyes only for Joel. “So tell us, what brings you to town? How long are you here? What are your intentions for my son?”

Joel balked, and his enjoyment seemed to come to a screeching halt. “Ah, well. I—”

I jumped in before he could say something about Gilbert’s place, though I doubted he would. “Joel’s looking at properties for a possible business downtown, but he’s had to talk about work all day. That’s the last thing he needs right now.”

Dad cocked an eyebrow and leaned closer to actually whisper, though the effort was pointless. “Son, you have beard burn all over your chin. I doubt there was more than five minutes devoted to business. You’re not fooling anyone.”

Mom and Patrick both groaned, and Regina giggled.

Well, this day had gone to shit.

Bella arrived with the menus and waters. “Thank you.” Even I could hear the desperation in my tone. “May I please get a glass of red wine? I don’t care what kind, just make it a large.”

Joel chuckled softly and grinned over at me. “Is that a thing in Lavender Shores? You can order wine by the size.”

“No, I don’t think so.” I glanced at Bella. “But please make it a thing for tonight, okay? Hell, if you have a Slurpee-sized cup back there, that would be even better.”

“You got it, Andrew.” She looked at Joel. “And you?”

“A dirty martini, please. Gin.”

Then she was gone.

Thankfully, silence fell over the table, even Dad and Regina. A day of magic, it seemed.

Then the silence became awkward, and I brought up the only topic I could think of; I knew I’d regret it, but it would steer them away from why Joel was in town and probably going to buy Gilbert’s place. With a sinking feeling, I turned to Mom. “So were you able to get someone to cover up the graffiti today?”

She looked at me as if I’d just tossed her a live grenade, and I could read her eyes as clearly as ever. Have you met your father?

Dad slapped the table. “Yes, she sure did. And I have to say I think it’s a shame. I went by there as soon as I heard about it. Some of those penises were brilliantly drawn. Nearly lifelike, despite the color palette. I think they added to the town.”

“You would.” Regina giggled and winked at Dad, but then her tone grew a bit more serious, which wasn’t saying much. “But really, Robert, we can’t have graffiti anywhere in town. It will lower property values, and if we let it happen once, it will happen again. Lavender Shores has been a safe haven for LGBTQ—” Her eyes focused on the ceiling for a second, darting back and forth, before she fluttered her hands in the air. “—and whatever other letters there are now, for nearly seventy-five years. I think a tasteful mural of penises would be a fitting tribute and quite the statement of support.”

Mom rolled her eyes. “I swear you and Robert never really grasp the significance of Lavender Shores. I don’t think you can unless you were born here.”

“I agree,” Patrick piped up. “Penises do not capture the true heart of the town and the beacon of safety and inclusion it was founded upon. Such vulgarity is nothing more than what one would expect from the Castro District.”

Regina let out a long-suffering sigh and directed her words to Dad. “See, Robert, never mind that we’ve been married to the Lavender Shores blue bloods for over sixty years between the two of us; we’ll never be locals. It’s insulting.” She glared at her husband. “We have just as much say as you and Debbra. At least we should have. And we think a penis mural would be a statement piece and an asset to the town.”

Joel winked at me and leaned in a little closer. “You might be right, Regina, but what about lesbians? Don’t you think a wall of penises might actually leave them feeling excluded?”

She gasped. “You know, you’re right. You’re not just a pretty face.” She turned to Dad again. “What do you think, Robert? One wall of penises and another one of vaginas?”

Mom cast a glance at Joel that said whatever the future held in store for him, he’d never be able to make up for this moment. Ever.

The table descended into talk of penis and vagina murals. A talk that continued as Joel and I ordered and waited for our food. Around the time I was halfway done with my steak, it had been determined that the penis and vagina mural would be done in a flower theme. By dessert, both Dad and Regina had resorted to drawing on a pad of paper from Regina’s purse to demonstrate just how subtle and classy the art could be. Both Mom and Patrick had whittled down their arguments to repetitive shaking of heads and mutters of “over my dead body.”

For my part, I expected Joel to get up, run away, and never want to see my crazy town or me. Instead, every time I braved a glance at him, he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying every single moment, often waggling a brow at me or simply grinning from ear to ear.

Joel’s grinning stopped when a quiet ding intruded, and he pulled out his phone. His expression serious, he stood. “Excuse my rudeness. I really must take this.” He nodded at my family and our friends, and then smiled down at me, though it didn’t come close to reaching his eyes. “I’ll be back.”

As Dad and Regina reignited the debate, I let their bickering filter into the background and watched Joel pace in front of the window, then disappear out of sight, only to return to pacing. As he spoke on the phone, his expression darkened with every step.