Four hundred words. How the hell had he only written four hundred words? It had been hours since Jonah left the cabin with a fishing pole and a tackle box he’d found buried in a corner of the garage. There had been nothing and no one to distract Christian from his writing, so why was he still so far behind?

Oh yeah. He’d seen his childhood crush shirtless.

It wasn’t the first time Christian had seen Jonah shirtless. Hell, he’d seen him in swimming trunks countless times when they were kids. He’d even seen him shirtless in a few movies. But there was something different about seeing a fully-grown, bare-chested Jonah in the flesh.

He was just as hot as Christian thought he would be, his defined muscles no doubt due to a strict exercise routine. How many hours a day did he spend in the gym? A thin sheen of sweat had formed on his tanned skin by the time he’d entered the kitchen, and Christian allowed himself a moment to indulge in the thought of another activity that would leave Jonah sweating.

No. Nope. That was long enough. If he didn’t get work done soon, he was going to be fired, and then where would he be? Sitting down at the desk on the sun porch, he pulled up his document again and started typing.

The phone rang.

God. Fucking. Dammit.

“What?” he growled, without even looking to see who was calling.

“Good morning to you, too,” Mason said. “I was going to ask how the writing was coming, but I think I have my answer. Sorry for interrupting your flow or whatever.”

Christian sighed. It wasn’t Mason’s fault he’d spent the majority of the morning and the entirety of the afternoon thinking about a very naked Jonah. And all the things he’d like to do to a very naked Jonah.

“No, it’s… it’s my fault for snapping at you. It’s been a weird day.”

“Because Jonah’s there? I’m so sorry about that. I swear I didn’t know he was coming.”

“He’s um… he’s actually been fine. It’s been really nice catching up and everything.” His voice was a bit higher than normal, but he did his best to keep himself under control. The last thing he needed was for Mason to realize Christian was half in love with his cousin. “I just still can’t seem to focus and I’m really worried I’m not going to get the article done in time.”

“You will,” Mason assured him. “You’ve been tight on deadlines before in the past and you’ve always managed to get the stories in.”

“Yeah, but these are the first ones I’ve actually been late on. If Lucy hadn’t had her piece ready to go, I think Mike might have actually killed me. And he wouldn’t have even felt bad about it.” Christian wouldn’t even have blamed him. He’d already asked for an extended deadline twice.

“Still, I know you. You’ll get them both done before the end of the week. Remember the AP Gov project you were stuck on for like three months, and then we came to the cabin for Christmas and by the time we left you were already done?”

“Honestly, I try to forget everything about AP Gov. And everything about high school, for that matter.”

He would never understand the people on Facebook who posted about how high school was the best time of their life, and they wished they could go back. High school had been nothing but torment and suffering, every day counting down until he could finally walk out the door of his childhood home and never look back. His life had begun the day he’d left, and he wasn’t about to throw that life away now. Not when he’d come so far.

“I’ll get it done,” he said. “I just need to buckle down and do the work. Maybe a walk will make me feel better.”

The woods around the cabin had always been a peaceful place. Out in the fresh air, there was a chance he would find the perfect angle to approach the bluegrass story from. And who knew. Maybe he’d even catch a glimpse of Jonah fishing.

Nope. He wasn’t allowed to think like that.

“Sounds like you’ve got a plan. I just wanted to make sure you were okay since you didn’t call me back after Jonah got there. Just text me if you need anything. I don’t want to interrupt again.”

When he got back to Louisville, he was going to have to take Mason out. Not just anywhere, but somewhere nice, like Bistro Le Relais. Oh, who was he kidding? He’d be doing good to afford brunch at Proof.

“Okay. Sorry I snapped at you before. I didn’t mean it. I’ll make it up to you.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

That definitely meant he should worry about it.

They said their goodbyes and Christian grabbed a jacket before heading out the door. The air was a bit chilly, which was perfect. Early fall was his favorite time of year. The heat and humidity of summer drained away and the state was painted red and gold as the leaves on the trees changed. Plus, there were fewer allergies than spring. Taking in a deep breath, he climbed down the porch steps and took off toward the river.

* * *

Christian typed the last few words of the article with a dramatic flourish, his fingers clacking across his keyboard before coming to a halt. Three hours. Three hours was all it had taken to finish the band piece after he’d gotten back from his walk. Of course, that was probably because he hadn’t allowed himself to walk all the way to the river to watch Jonah fish. Otherwise he’d still be down there.

A muffled thud came from the front hall, so either Jonah was back with the fish, or someone had driven to the middle of nowhere to kill him. He closed his laptop—after saving the article three different places and sending off the draft to his boss—then headed to the kitchen to meet Jonah.

He caught up with him in the front hall, instead, Jonah shucking out of his boots and overcoat. The tacklebox sat on the floor beside the fishing rod, but there was a distinct lack of fish.

“You uh… let them all go?” he tried hopefully.

Jonah shot him a murderous glare. “I was out there for four fucking hours and not a single fish. Not one. I had a few bites. There was one time I actually hooked something. But it turned out to be this disgusting mass of twigs and algae.”

The corners of his mouth threatened to turn up into a smile, so Christian bit the insides of his lips to try and keep that from happening. It didn’t work.

“I swear to god those are the smartest fish in the entire world. They stole my bait! It wasn’t even edible!”

This time, he didn’t even try to stop himself from laughing.

“Oh fuck off. Like you could have done any better.”

“I couldn’t have,” Christian agreed. “Which is why I never said I was going fishing. I said we should go into town and get stuff for a barbecue. I’m thinking ribs.”

Jonah paused as he removed his socks. “I could go for ribs.”

“The famous McGreggor recipe?” He’d learned it a couple of summers before he graduated from Richard, himself.

“Oh hell yeah.”

“Then put your shoes back on. No one in Kroger will care if you smell like the river.”

Twenty minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot, only a few spaces from the door. Since it was a Tuesday evening, there were few people out. That was for the best, as far as Christian was concerned. The sooner they could get in and out, the better.

“We should probably divide and conquer. I’ll grab the ribs and spices, you grab the sides, and we can meet up by the check-out,” he said, glancing over his list one more time.

“Sounds like a plan.” Jonah started for the door handle, then paused. “Wait. What about dessert?”

“I brought brownie mix. What?” he asked, rolling his eyes at Jonah’s expression. “I like brownies and one pan would be enough to get me through the week.”

Grinning, Jonah held up both hands. “Hey, I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to. Let’s just get this over with, okay?”

He shoved the car door open and made a bee-line toward the door. There was no doubt in his mind that Jonah was going to be stopped at least once while they were inside. But as long as they kept the fan interactions to a minimum and got home at a reasonable time, there would be plenty of time to cook the ribs.

It didn’t take long for him to find exactly what he was looking for—a giant slab of pork ribs that would more than feed him and Jonah. A quick stop down the baking aisle and he had everything he needed for his part. He steered the cart around a large, rolling pallet and made his way toward the check-out, following the uneven beeps that came from the front of the store.

A line was forming down the chip aisle, and Christian frowned. There weren’t that many people here, and most of the check-outs had been opened when he and Jonah had walked in. Oh fuck. They weren’t waiting in line to check out. They were waiting in line for Jonah.

He pushed his way past a group of teenagers and a mother with two small children to find Jonah backed up against a giant cardboard turkey, signing—if Christian wasn’t mistaken—a Kroger receipt. After he finished, he handed it back to a middle-aged man and put his arm around him, plastering on a grin as the man took a picture of the two of them. Fuck, they were never getting out of here.

To his surprise, Jonah didn’t look like he minded the attention. In fact, he seemed to preen as each person or group approached him. He knelt beside little kids and did the voice of Carter the Crab from the animated film he’d done last year; he stood back-to-back with a teenager like Special Agent Dominic Brendel, from the spy thriller that had come out the year before that; he even did the Northstar pose while one very excited fan tried and failed to contain her excitement. Good god, did everyone lose their senses when they met a celebrity? Christian couldn’t think of a single person who would affect him that way.

Except maybe Jonah, but his reasons were different than most people’s. Okay, maybe not that different, but at least he knew Jonah as an actual person instead of just the side he presented to the public. None of these people knew Jonah’s favorite color (midnight blue,) or how he liked his coffee (black, three sugars,) or what he was allergic to (pecan tree pollen and eggplants) They liked the idea of Jonah, sure, but Jonah himself? They didn’t have any idea who he was.

Jonah’s eyes caught his, and he winked, the gesture sending a shiver down Christian’s spine. Oh no. Oh come on. He’d done everything over the past eight years to get rid of his pathetic crush on Jonah, especially since Jonah had made it incredibly clear he was into girls. The last thing he needed was for it to come rushing back now, of all times. They still had six days left to spend with each other. He didn’t want to go making things awkward.

But then Jonah looked at him again and smiled, and Christian knew it was a lost cause. Jonah had found a way past each and every defense he’d put in place after Ben left and he’d taken up residence in Christian’s heart once again, like he belonged there. And maybe he did. Maybe it was just Christian’s fate to love the straight cousin of his best friend. What a fucking horrible fate it was.