No matter how many times Rhys looked in their shared closet, he couldn’t find a suit that would fit him.

“I can’t believe you don’t have a suit,” Mason playfully chided as he waltzed into the bedroom. Rhys couldn’t help but gasp as he looked at his boyfriend.

Mason wore a dark blue three-piece suit, the waistcoat helping to hide the bandages for his ribs. Underneath were a light blue shirt and a white tie with black dots. It was tight fitting, helping to show off the muscles in his arms and chest.

Mason beamed at Rhys as he looked down at himself.

“Damn, boy. You look good,” Rhys told him, turning back to his half of the wardrobe. “All I have is this old dinner jacket.” He pulled out the black piece of clothing, the ends turning slightly gray from wear and tear. “I could pair this with some nice jeans.”

“We gotta wear a suit for this,” Mason said. “Mr. Shapiro is old-fashioned like that. Come on, our appointment is at ten, right? We have enough time.”

Mason turned to leave the room. Rhys’s eyes instinctively drifted to Mason’s rear, his muscular buttocks wrapped tightly in the blue trousers.

“Good lord, I can’t wait to unwrap you,” Rhys muttered to himself.

Rhys made sure Socket’s kibble bowl was full before the two of them headed downstairs. Lily was already underneath the hood of a car, the customer sitting on the couch. The two ladies were deep in conversation. The customer looked like a high school senior to Rhys, her braces glimmering in the morning sunlight.

“So I was ready to break the window open with a rock,” the young women told Lily as Rhys descended the stairs, “when Mason came out and asked what I was doing.”

“Oh jeez,” Lily replied from under the hood, keenly following the girl’s story.

“Then she asked me,” Mason chimed in. “What kind of an asshole are you?” He turned to face the young lady on the sofa. “Good to see you again, Tammy.”

“This is Tammy?” Rhys asked, gaping at the young lady. She seemed so small for someone he heard was so terrifying.

“That’s me,” Tammy confirmed, Lily snorting under the hood.

Rhys looked between the two young women. They seemed to be getting along really well.

“Now if you have any trouble, at all…” Mason began telling Lily.

“I’ll call, promise,” Lily replied. Rhys got the sense they’d had the same conversation several times.

“We’re heading out early. Rhys here doesn’t have a proper suit,” Mason informed everyone in the room.

“Bro, even Lily has a suit,” Tammy chided him.

“You do?” Rhys asked her. Lily popped out from under the hood. For some reason, Rhys half expected her back to crack like Mason’s.

“Yeah, I look okay in a dress, but suits just suit me,” Lily replied.

“I bet they do,” Tammy said. Rhys glanced between the two ladies again. Seemed they were getting along really well.

“We’d better get going,” Mason tapped Rhys on the shoulder. “Y’all ladies play safe now.”

“You got it, boss,” Lily said as she went back under the hood of the car. Rhys looked the car over, a very lovely Jaguar convertible. He glanced back over at Tammy, then back at the car.

“A gift from your parents?” he asked, gesturing toward the car.

“Oh, that car’s not mine. I just came by to see how Mason was doing after the accident,” Tammy said. “Got talking to Lily, lost track of time.” She checked the clock on her phone with practiced ease. “I should get going soon so I don’t miss first bell.”

“Not until you finish the story of how you met Mason,” Lily pleaded.

“See you later,” Rhys called out as the two men went out the big metal doors. His red Impala was parked just outside. They jumped in, Rhys pulling out onto the street, feeling like his grandpa was with him in spirit as he headed out.

They found Hidden Creek’s premier tailor with help from their GPS. Within minutes, they pulled up to Stitch In Time, opening in exactly ten minutes, at nine am on the dot.

The two men sat in the car. Rhys could feel Mason was almost as nervous as him.

“We’re gonna do great,” Mason assured him. “We’ve practiced this dozens of times. We have the numbers and the know-how.”

“Yeah, you’re right. All I need is to look as gorgeous as you,” Rhys replied, taking in the spicy smell of the Impala for comfort.

“An easy task when you’re already a hottie,” Mason told him. Rhys chuckled, the two leaning in for a quick peck on the lips.

“Mason? Rhys?” A shocked voice asked from outside the Impala.

Rhys lowered the window. Hidden Creek’s premier wedding planner Bryan Silvers leaned down to talk to them. Rhys noted the Thermos in one hand, a bear claw from Grind in the other.

“Pleased as punch to see y’all out and about!” Bryan said. “I was so upset to get your call yesterday. How y’all holding up?”

“It only hurts when I breathe,” Mason assured him.

“Oh you brave soldier… literally!” Bryan’s eyes lit up, looking over Rhys’s Impala. “Like I said on the phone, we can absolutely carry on with just the gorgeous Pontiac. But what about this beauty here?”

Bryan stood up, readjusting his hot-pink blazer.

“She is beautiful. Lots of couples would love to ride in a gorgeous gal like this, even without an open top.” Bryan pulled a small notepad from his inside jacket pocket along with a pink pen, the pen and jacket matching in shade.

“That is a nice idea,” Rhys began, mulling it over. It would put the wedding car rental back on track.

Why hadn’t he thought of it before?

He soon realized why. “This is all I have left of my grandpa. I need this car. It’s a part of me. I’m gonna have to be selfish and keep her all to myself.”

“That ain’t selfish,” Mason told him.

“I understand,” Bryan replied, trying his best to hide the disappointment in his voice. He put his pink pen and notepad away, turning around to Stitch In Time. “You here to see Chester as well?”

“That we are,” Mason drawled back. Rhys sighed. His Texan boyfriend always got more Texan when he was talking with another native. “We got an appointment at ten. Rhys here needs some new threads.”

“Oh, what’s happening at ten?” Bryan inquired, leaning back down so he was at eye level with the two men.

“We’re heading into the bank for a business proposal,” Rhys said.

“With that Mr. Shapiro?” Bryan nervously asked. “Best of luck to y’all.”

They spent the next few minutes chitchatting, Bryan excitedly telling them about the bridesmaids dresses he was here to inspect. Mason and Rhys told him all about their business pitch, Bryan excitedly nodding along.

“Well, if you get that set up, drop me a line,” Bryan assured them. “Both of y’all’s sound like they’d be good for my business.”

Before Bryan could carry on, the doors to Stitch in Time were unlocked, and the three men poured into the shop.

Rhys saw the shop was divided into three sections. To the left, several men’s suits, all colors of the rainbow and patterns ranging from gorgeous to garish. To the right, wedding dresses, bridesmaids’ dresses, and a ten percent discount on Winter Formal dresses.

At the back of the store was the kid’s section. Rhys had never seen so many kids dresses in one place before. Or as many sequins.

From behind the counter jumped up a slender young man with impeccable eyebrows. His red jacket was covered in more sequins than Rhys thought humanly possible.

“Bryan!” he shrieked, trotting out from behind the counter to give Bryan a big hug.

“Chester, baby!” Bryan squealed back, the two hugging each other tightly.

“Your bridesmaids dresses are almost finished,” Chester began.

“For the first time ever, honey, I’m not the priority,” Bryan told him. Chester mock-gasped, holding his hands up to his cheeks. “My lovely friend Rhys here needs a suit for his appointment at ten o’clock.”

“What?” Chester squeaked, looking at Rhys with real horror in his eyes. “Ten o’clock!? In the a.m.!? I work magic, but I am not a miracle worker.”

“Deep breath. Just look at him,” Bryan moved behind Chester, rubbing his shoulder as the two men looked Rhys up and down. Rhys suddenly knew exactly how the animals at the zoo must feel. “We’re got a wonderful base to work off of.”

“Okay, I’m seeing classic but modern, two tones… but neutral,” Chester began to ponder out loud. “Silver and a black shirt, black trousers?” he asked, looking around to Bryan.

“We can do better. Come!” Bryan clapped his hands together. “We have work to do!”

Before Rhys knew what was happening, the two flamboyant men had jostled him into the dressing room.

He emerged a few minutes later, wearing silver-gray trousers, a black shirt, and matching silver jacket. He looked at himself in the mirror, sporting an open collar.

“Damn, I look—” Rhys admired himself but was cut off by Chester.

“Like a budget villain from a Marvel movie. You need something to work with that cool winter skin of yours. Get back in there!” Chester commanded him.

Rhys emerged five minutes later, wearing an all-white suit with a black shirt.

“Not sure about this…” Rhys confessed, looking at himself in the mirror. He always found himself staining his white clothes almost immediately.

“You’re right. You look like a waiter for Charlie Sheen’s funeral. What was I thinking?” Chester chastised himself as he hustled Rhys back into the dressing room.

Rhys returned three minutes later. His trousers, black. Shirt, white with a nice thin black tie. The jacket, the original silver-gray one.

“Chester, baby,” Bryan looked Rhys up and down. “You are an artist. Now we just need some proper shoes instead of sneakers.”

It was nine forty when they left the shop, Rhys making sure the tags were taken off his suit. He wore it out of the shop, his new shoes tight around his feet.

“Damn, you look good,” Mason told him, looking him up and down. Rhys could see the hunger in his eyes. “I had no idea suits could look so sexy on a man.”

“I know. It’s gonna feel hard to focus during this pitch,” Rhys said.

They drove with ease to the bank, the rush hour traffic having long died down. They walked past the drive-thru ATMs, pressed the buzzer, and headed into the air-conditioned building.

Ten minutes before their appointment, Rhys and Mason were sitting in the lobby of The First Mutual Bank of Hidden Creek.

Rhys opened his file, double-checking that his concept sketches were still there. Not like they would have gone anywhere since he last checked three minutes ago.

“Hey, you got this,” Mason told him, steadying Rhys’s hands. He looked up into Mason’s turquoise eyes, truly believing the words he was saying. He’d doubled Mason’s business. He was with the man he loved. He had this.

“Mason O’Neil?” the receptionist, Darla, called out, looking around the lobby. Her smile broadened as she spotted them. “They’re ready for you, honey.”

The two men stood up in unison, Rhys buttoning his jacket on instinct.

“All right, let’s do this.” For once, he sounded as confident as he felt.