My heart thudded like I’d finished a kickboxing class as Andrew and I wandered around the small shop. The old guy nodded at us from behind his desk and then returned to his newspaper. Andrew stayed close but didn’t speak. I didn’t either.

It had been years since I’d been surrounded by so much memorabilia. Nearly two decades. I’d almost forgotten that wonderfully musty smell, the tang of mold and paper. I’m sure it was all in my head, but I preferred it to the odor of the used bookshop the day before.

I eyed a basketball signed by Michael Jordan that sat behind glass. Not really vintage enough for my tastes, although, I supposed that was going to be vintage soon enough. Next to that, a small frame hung on the wall with what looked like a receipt of some sort surrounded by green matting. I leaned forward, squinting. Hank Aaron’s signature was at the bottom. Reaching out, I smoothed my fingertip over the glass and then realized my hand was trembling. I stuffed it into my pocket. I needed to get a hold of myself. I wasn’t a teenager anymore. This was nothing but foolishness and asking for trouble when I’d already stumbled into more than enough.

“Is that valuable?” Andrew leaned in beside me, inspecting the autograph.

I glanced at the price tag. “Not as much as they’re asking. Although, I’ve been out of this particular game for a long time. Maybe that’s a decent price now, but I doubt it. The paper isn’t in that great of condition, and the top part of the receipt is smudged so you can’t even tell where it’s from. I can’t imagine it’s worth what they’re asking. But still, Hank Aaron. No small thing.”

Andrew straightened and nodded, his lower lip jutting out as he considered. He obviously had no clue about any of this, but it was endearing to watch him try to figure out what to say. “He played”—Andrew glanced at the Michael Jordan autograph—“basketball?”

I barked out a laugh and noticed the old guy flinch over Andrew’s shoulder, crunching up part of his paper. “Sorry!” I lifted my chin toward him then returned my attention to Andrew. “Are you serious?”

He blushed. “So not basketball, then? Baseball?” Yes, so very, very endearing.

“Yeah, baseball. I take it sports aren’t your thing.”

“No. Sorry.” He shrugged, and his blush deepened. “I have a rather large collection of cookbooks by the chefs on Food Network.”

“Well, that’s…” I laughed again, though quieter this time. “I don’t know what that is, actually. Is cooking a sport now?”

He shrugged and grinned self-consciously. “Well, maybe, depending on who you ask. I was just saying I collect things too.”

Holy shit. I was supposed to leave him in a matter of days.

How the fuck was I going to make myself do that?

“Ah, it all makes sense. And yes, those two things are very similar.” I grinned at him.

“I know that’s not quite as sexy and manly as collecting baseballs and jockstraps and such, sorry.” His eyes twinkled.

“Very true, collecting jockstraps is the definition of manly. I’m going to have to start that.” Taking my hand out of my pocket, I slipped a finger into his belt loop and pulled him closer. I’d noted he seemed to like that move before, and sure enough, I caught a sharp intake of breath. “But I’m guessing your collection of cookbooks might be handier than a collection of baseball cards tonight. If you’re going to cook for me.”

He nodded, breathing heavy.

I pulled him a bit closer. “And if you happen to be wearing a jockstrap when you do”—I shrugged—“well, I guess combining our interests would be appreciated.”

I could barely hear his whisper. “If you keep talking like that, I’m going to shoot in my pants right here and now.”

That would make two of us. “Well, that’s one way to increase my love of sporting memorabilia. If you get your come on the merchandise, I bet it will lower the value. I, however, will pay more for it.” I released his belt loop and ran the back of my finger over his bulging erection.

We both jumped as the old guy cleared his throat.

I didn’t look at him this time, but laughed softly. So much for good old Dad’s proclamation of not being a nelly homo in public. I gestured toward the door. “Come on; let’s get out of here before we’re arrested for fucking in public and turning the local shop owners gay.”

Andrew was beet red. “Yeah, that’s probably a good call.”

I grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the door. A few feet away from the exit, a stand I hadn’t noticed when we’d walked in brought me to a halt. There was an old library card catalog drawer stuffed full of baseball cards in their thin plastic sleeves, and the first card of the middle row was one I hadn’t seen since that fateful afternoon. Not even attempting to control my trembling fingers, I reached out and lifted it from the drawer. “Oh my God.”

Andrew’s hand settled on my lower back as he looked over my shoulder. “Is that a good one?”

I shook my head and made certain my voice wouldn’t tremble like my hands before I spoke. “No, at least not in this condition, and for sure not worth the twenty-five dollars he’s asking for it, but this was my favorite card when I was kid. I kept it by my bed.”

“That actual card?”

I gave a snort. “No. Definitely not. But identical, in any case.” I held it out to him.

Andrew accepted it reverently, inspecting it, though he clearly had no clue what he was looking for. “Sandy Koufax. Never heard of him. Though that obviously doesn’t mean anything.”

“No, probably not. I don’t know how good a cook Sandy was.” I was falling in love with teasing him. “He played for the Dodgers in the fifties and sixties.”

“Oh. He was good?”

“Yeah. He was the youngest player inducted to the Baseball Hall of Fame. But that wasn’t why I liked his card so much.” I hadn’t meant to admit that last part.

Andrew looked down at the card, puzzled, then at me skeptically. “You don’t mean you thought he was cute.”

I was pretty sure I was the one blushing now. “Come on, look at him. Those big lips and nose and those goofy ears. He’s adorable.”

Andrew looked horrified. “You called me adorable less than half an hour ago.”

“Because you are.”

Andrew shook the card at me. “Obviously your sense of what is and what isn’t adorable is broken, and I’m a little concerned that you put—” He checked the card before looking back up. “—Sandy Koufax and me on the same level. I think I need a mirror to see what’s wrong with my face.” He could barely suppress his grin.

I took the card back. “If it makes you feel better, I never wanted to see Sandy in a jockstrap.”

His eyes narrowed. “That isn’t true.”

“It is.” I shrugged. “I didn’t sexualize jockstraps until I discovered internet porn.”

Andrew rolled his eyes. “Well, as much as I don’t want competition this evening, you obviously need to get that card.”

And the heart palpitations were back. I stared at Sandy Koufax, a million emotions and memories surging through my mind, and then placed him back in the refurbished card catalog. “Nah. That was a lifetime ago. I was a different person then.”

It looked like Andrew was about to argue, but I cut to the chase and walked out the door. Thankfully, he followed without comment.

As we continued walking the streets of Olema, I tried to get back to the lighthearted space we’d been in before. Despite the gorgeous day, the beautiful trees everywhere, and the stunning man by my side, it simply wouldn’t come. Old shadows played over everything.

After a bit, Andrew motioned toward one of the wood-and-iron benches outside a gift shop. We sat. “Tell me.”

“About what?”

He smiled gently. “Obviously that card did something to you. So tell me.”

I shook my head. “No. We have two days together. Less than that now. Only happy things.”

“We have two days now. More when you come back.” He smiled again, though there was a question in this one. A question I wasn’t going to think about, much less address. Thankfully, he kept talking instead of focusing on the future. “Even if we don’t talk about it, it’ll still be on your mind, so might as well just get it out there.”

The topic wasn’t all that much better than what was going to happen after Monday, but I went with it. I wasn’t even sure I made a conscious choice; I just started talking. “That was one of the few things Mom and I had in common. She loved sports. All of them. But baseball was her favorite.” Despite my effort, I could hear the bitterness in my voice. “Of course, Dad insisted it was all a waste of time. Unless I was good enough to go pro, which I wasn’t, there was no benefit to it all. It took away from time better served by studying and working.”

Andrew disappeared, as did the bright day. I quit being a thirty-five-year-old successful businessman as the years collapsed, ushering me back to childhood.

“It was one of the few areas Mom defied my dad. They argued over everything, all the time, and he always won in the end. But not with baseball. She took me to games nearly every weekend during the season. And birthday and Christmas presents were all the kinds of things that filled that store. Hell, with as much as she bought me, it could’ve filled two stores. That Sandy Koufax card was a reward when I was… I don’t know, eight, maybe? I’d completed my first book report on my own, and I managed to get an A. So Mom let me pick out anything I wanted from my favorite sports memorabilia shop. I chose the Koufax card. She tried to talk me into something more expensive, something rarer, said I’d worked hard and I deserved it. But I wanted that card. Sandy’s face called to me, that expression—” I huffed a laugh. “—those ears.” I could picture Mom’s gorgeous face, surrounded by her long thick brown curls as she handed me the card after she paid for it. “I’m pretty sure that was the day she realized I was gay. Knew before I did.”

Andrew’s hand on my knee brought me back to the present. He gave a nervous smile. “Did she freak out about it?”

“No. Never mentioned it. When I came out later, she was great about it, actually. But by that time, she was in New York, and her opinion didn’t matter much.”

Andrew ran his hand up and down my thigh, and for once, his touch didn’t make my dick twitch; it just caused my eyes to sting. Then he asked what I prayed he wouldn’t.

“What happened to the card?”

I could’ve lied, shoved it aside like I had with other things involving my father. But I couldn’t. “I was sixteen. My father had me working evenings and weekends at the business since I was twelve.” Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realized I’d slipped about the business again, but it didn’t matter. Not right then, not in the slightest. “I was supposed to sit in on an all-day workshop about a new product so I could learn all the crap behind marketing and that shit. I’d argued about it for the two weeks leading up to it. The Dodgers had a big game I wanted to see. Dad wouldn’t consider it, of course. All my arguing just made him more determined. I blew off the workshop. For the first time ever, I didn’t do what Dad commanded. I skipped work and went to the Dodgers game. They lost.” My eyes stung, but I refused to let the tears fall. “When I got home, my room had been stripped of everything sports related. Everything. Dad had boxed it up and carried it off. He said he burned it all. I don’t know if that part is true. I doubt it. I don’t know where he could’ve burned all of that in San Francisco. There was so much it probably would’ve triggered a fire to burn the city to the ground.” I laughed darkly at the thought. “Whatever he did with it, the result was the same. All of it was gone, and I never went to a game again. Or a store like that, for that matter.”

When I looked up, Andrew’s eyes glistened with suppressed tears. He opened his mouth, but I stood before he could utter a word.

“I’m sorry, I need… I need some coffee.” I turned and started to walk away, then glanced over at him. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

He nodded as he wiped the back of his wrist over his cheeks, thankfully not trying to follow me.

I made it into the coffee shop and hurried to the restroom before the barista had time to ask if she could take my order. I locked the door then crashed against it, using its pressure on my back to keep from collapsing. And to keep from breaking down.

All of it came flooding over me. Mom. The cards. Our times together in the sun, with hotdogs and ice cream. My father. Work. Always work. Coffee. The king of everything. Coffee. Then Andrew and fucking Lavender Shores. And coffee, and my father. And what a fucking shit show it all was.

No tears. No falling to the floor in hysterics. Bit by bit, I packed it all away. As was right. It took me much longer than it should’ve. Much. But regardless, I was back to normal when I approached the counter. Ignoring the barista’s quizzical expression, I ordered a new coffee and fresh nonfat mocha.

The second injection of caffeine didn’t do its job. I couldn’t get the moment back. I’d lost my rhythm with Andrew.

I don’t know what I’d been thinking. I’d never told anyone that story. Why would I? But Andrew, seriously? I wouldn’t see him again after Monday. Maybe if I ever came to check on the flagship Comfort Coffee location, we’d run into each other, but I was planning on not letting that happen. I’d assign that task to someone else. Go get lost in DC.

Get lost in DC. Just like Mom had done in New York.

No wonder she ran.

I’d never been tempted before. Not really. I’d wanted the success, the money, the power. My father’s acceptance and approval. His control was part of the deal, one that I’d shake off when I earned that position.

But suddenly, I did; I wanted to run from it. From Harvest Coffee, from Comfort Coffee, from whatever-the-fuck coffee came next. From my father. From everything. But not to DC or New York. I wanted to run the long, long distance of a solitary hour north up the California coastline. Run to Lavender Shores. To the cabin by the palisade. To Andrew Kelly.

A man I’d known for a day. No, wait, more than a day now.

Because that made it better.

What the actual fuck?

“You don’t seem to be enjoying Olema much anymore.” Andrew squeezed my hand. I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding his. “Wanna head back home, er… to Lavender Shores?”

“Yeah.” Now I wanted to run from Andrew, back to San Francisco, and hide.

“You okay?” Before I could answer, he squeezed again and rushed on. “Never mind. That’s a stupid question. I bring up your past and then ask if you’re okay. Let’s get in the truck, and I’ll make us dinner when we’re home. Plus, I know you’re excited to sing along with my music on the drive back.”

I knew I was supposed to laugh or say something bitchy about his taste in country music, but I couldn’t find the words. His face fell. Get a grip, Joel. “Dinner sounds amazing. Thank you.” Formal much?

“Okay. Easy enough.” He smiled but let go of my hand and led the way back to the truck.

He kept about a half a foot stride ahead of me, and I realized what a dark place my head was in when I caught myself staring at his edible hot ass and my dick didn’t notice. I had to get a handle on this. We had limited time. I wasn’t going to waste it with moping about mommy-and-daddy issues. Fuck that.

Despite his teasing threat, Andrew didn’t turn on the radio, so we rode in silence for several minutes. Finally, he spoke up, his voice slightly timid. “Do you wanna talk about her more? Your mom?”

“God no!” The words burst from me with too much feeling, too much anger. But I was raw and felt on display. “Sorry. I’m not mad. And for sure not mad at you, Andrew. I’m just…” What? Fucked in the head. “Can we talk about anything else? Anything?”

“Sure. Of course.” He tapped the steering wheel three times. “What about?”

I wished he would just pick something. Anything, even country music. As long as it wasn’t about my parents or coffee. “You. Tell me about you. Why Lavender Shores, exactly? I mean, I get it; it’s gorgeous. But so are you. You’re a gorgeous man in his early thirties. Why aren’t you in a city with a thousand gay guys throwing themselves at you? Trust me; they’d be falling at your feet.”

I’d tried to turn it to flirty, but maybe my tone hadn’t matched my intention, as Andrew’s expression grew stony. “I’ve been told something’s wrong with me my whole life because I love my town so much. Over half my classmates left Lavender Shores the day after graduation. And nearly every relationship I’ve tried has fallen apart because they can’t believe I have no motivation to go out and live in the big wide world.” He glared at me for half a second before looking back at the road. “But you’re the one moving here. You tell me. Why should I live in the big wonderful city, if it’s so great that you’re leaving it to come to my little hick town?”

When I didn’t answer, he looked over at me again, one brow raised in expectation.

Shit.

This was it. The moment I needed to confess everything. That I wasn’t moving. That it was all about the coffee shop. Right. Like admitting that was remotely an option. My father would love to hear why I ruined the new launch.

Maybe it was time to tell Andrew that I hadn’t intended to meet someone like him. That I’d never met anyone like him. Who made me feel like he did. How the hell was I supposed to know someone like him even existed? That I had no fucking clue how I was supposed to be okay after I left him behind.

This was that moment.

And if I said even one of those things, everything would crumble.

I thought back to that stupid memo I’d memorized the day before. “Well, it’s a place with a great history, you know? How many towns can claim they were founded as a safe place for homosexuals? And it’s far from a hick town. I mean, it’s basically a little artist community. I know you said there’s only one kind of each business in town, but I did see three different art galleries. So that’s pretty, uhm, awesome.” Shit. I bit my lips, racking my brain. “Well, and being surrounded by the National Seashore. I mean, it doesn’t get prettier than that, right?”

This time he looked at me much longer than was safe, considering he was driving. The anger I’d induced earlier seemed gone. “Are you okay? I think you just became someone else.” A small grin played at the corner of his lips. “Did you just body swap with my father?”

I latched on to it. “I’m pretty sure I’m not wearing manpanties, so I’m gonna go with no.”

He burst out laughing, and the tension broke, mostly. “Dear God, please never talk about my father and manpanties in the same sentence ever again.” He shuddered.

At the risk of taking us back into heavy territory, I couldn’t leave things as they’d been. It seemed like I’d hurt him, and that was the last thing I wanted to do. “I’m sorry if I seemed like I was judging you earlier. I was just trying to change the subject. I think it’s great you love Lavender Shores so much. If you’re happy, why should you leave?”

His smile faded, and he cleared his throat, but his anger didn’t return. “Well, you’re the only man who’s said that to me.” Another glance my way. “I assume you’re thinking Lavender Shores is just a good place to own a shop for a while, like stepping out of your life for a couple years and then move on to bigger and better? The way you’re talking, it doesn’t sound like you’re planning on staying. Or are you just tired of all those men throwing themselves at you in the city?”

I thought I detected a hint of playfulness toward the end, but once more, I was walking through a minefield. “I can honestly say I have no idea how any of this is going to turn out.” Not true, not true, not true. It was going to end painfully. “Honestly, Lavender Shores has been completely different than I could’ve imagined.”

“It’s a rare person who plans on opening a business in a place they’ve never visited before. You’re not the first one I’ve met who’s done it, though few of them stay.” He sighed. “But you don’t seem the type. You seem like the kind of man who has everything planned out years in advance.”

“I normally do.” Hell, I did. Lavender Shores was planned out, even if I hadn’t had time to do the normal research beyond market potential. “I didn’t plan on you, though, Andrew Kelly. I don’t think I could’ve dreamed you up if I dared.” And that was the truest thing I’d said in my entire life.

His next glance was serious, with maybe a bit of fear too. “You know, I think that’s the strangest thing about all of this.” He motioned between the two of us. “I feel like I’ve been dreaming you up my entire life.” He gave a self-conscious laugh. “I mean, not actually you, I didn’t see your face specifically, but the whatever it is in you that makes you you. Like, even though we don’t really know each other, I just know that… I just know.”

He’d said he loved me last night. Then took it back, like any sane person would. But here he was again, saying it even clearer than before.

That had to make him a crazy person, right? Had to. “You mean, like your soul knows or it recognizes mine. Something like that?”

He nodded, keeping his gaze fixed firmly on the road.

Yep. He was crazy. I was leaving Monday, so whatever he thought he felt, whatever bit of me he fantasized he recognized, was wrong.

Andrew stretched out his hand, still not looking, slow enough that I could tell he wasn’t sure if I’d take it.

I did. Though I had to force myself in that moment. Like I was wrapping my hand around a snake. His fingers interlocked with mine for probably the twentieth time that day, and I finally labeled what I’d been feeling nearly from the moment I spotted him from the bar.

My soul recognized his. My body felt instantly at home. I just knew.

Which meant we were both nuts. It also meant I was even more bonkers than he was. He felt all that shit and didn’t know how it was going to end. I did. I knew the end. Hell, I knew the end almost to the hour and minute. And I still felt it.

Fucking certifiable. Hopelessly.

Andrew took his hand back after a minute or so, flipped on the radio, so softly it barely did more than soften the silence between us, and then he returned his hand to mine.

I got lost in staring at our entwined fingers, his lighter skin creamy against my tan. How was I supposed to let this man go?

On the way back into Lavender Shores, we got my stuff from the hotel and then stopped at the grocery store. As soon as we walked into the bright lights, the mood seemed to ease. Actually, Andrew’s mood lifted and swept me right along with him.

He stopped in the middle of the produce section and turned to me, eyes bright with excitement. “Okay, so you have choices. My two favorite Food Network chefs are Giada De Laurentiis, who does a killer pea and mascarpone manicotti, and Alex Guarnaschelli, who has the best meatloaf recipe in the world, which you cannot repeat to my father, as I tell him his is the best.” He leaned closer and whispered, “It isn’t.” He straightened again, stuffing his hands in his pockets and causing his chest to flex under his T-shirt. “Which one do you want?”

God, he was cute. He was practically bouncing on his toes. And I got to see him cook. If this was a precursor, I was going to have a hard time keeping my hands off him. “Am I supposed to pick based on the food or the chef name? I guess since we’re gay, I’ll go with the guy. So, Alex.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re the city boy; you’re supposed to be the cultured one. Alex is a woman. They both are.” He narrowed his eyes suddenly. “And by the way, sexist much?”

I raised my hands in mock innocence. “Hey, I’m planning on getting very, very naked with a hot man tonight. I just figured we should stick with a theme.”

I’d expected one of his trademark blushes, hoped for it in fact, but his expression grew serious. “You’re right. Sex. I should’ve thought of that. Okay, scrap those options. Both of those are heavy. Giada also has a halibut with artichoke-and-olive caponata from her healthy cookbook. We’ll do that. Much lighter. Sound good?”

“Uhm, sure? I don’t even know what a capatopi is.”

He laughed. “I don’t know what that is either. It might be one of those deer-looking animals in the Serengeti. But a caponata is a sauce, typically done with eggplant, but she uses artichokes instead of eggplant and bell peppers. It’s amazing. We’ll do that.”

“Whatever you say, chef. Do we need to go to your house to get the recipe?”

“Nope.” Andrew tapped his temple. “I’ve got this.”

I leaned in and gave him a kiss. “You keep getting more and more adorable. It’s fucking dangerous.”

There was the blush, but he grimaced playfully. “I already saw an example today of the kind of guy you label as adorable. I think I’m going to have to request you refrain from that particular insult.”

I kissed him again and felt a wave of relief. We were back on track to enjoying what little time we had together. Thank God.

Just as he turned, I noticed a particularly wonderfully shaped squash close to his elbow. I snatched it, wrapped my arms around him, and waggled it near his face as I whispered in his ear, “Whatever you’re making, can we get this? We don’t have to eat it, but it looks like a thickness you’d enjoy.”

Without missing a beat, one hand snuck back and squeezed my crotch. “So far, I’m more than satisfied with this level of thickness.” With the other, he snagged a different squash from the pile. “Plus, if we’re going that route, this one has the perfect curve.”

“Wow, you’re dirty. Thankfully!” I kissed his ear before releasing him and returned the squashes to the wild. They were almost the luckiest produce in the world. Although, I was glad I didn’t have to share.