Smoky Mountain Dreams by Leta Blake Read Free Book Online Page A

were with Marcy for all those
years? Did you consider yourself straight then?”
    Jesse clenched his jaw, sweat breaking out on his forehead,
and his chest aching.
    Amanda went on, “Because since…well, it’s only been men
since. And I’ve wondered.”
    “It’s none of your business. You’re my employee, and I’m
your employer. This conversation is completely inappropriate .”
    “I’m your sister ,” Amanda said,
rolling her eyes.
    “All the more inappropriate then.”
    “You loved Marcy. I know you did. I’m not saying you didn’t,
Jesse.”
    “Just leave,” he said, though his voice lacked anger, having
defaulted to resignation already. “I have work to do.”
    Amanda stood, and Jesse had a brief moment of hope that the
conversation was over and she really would leave without another word. But it
had never been like Amanda to cede the field without a parting shot.
    “He was cute. You should’ve gone. When’s the last time you
were on a real date, with a real person, who was really interested in you? It’s
all dirty, secret, furtive stuff that you’re ashamed of later.”
    Jesse bit his cheek to keep from saying something he’d
regret. Besides, she was wrong. He was not ashamed .
He was just realistic. A man he got a blow job from in a bar bathroom was not a
man he took home to his kids, or introduced to his friends, or let meet Tim and
Nova.
    She went on, “You deserve to be
happy, Jesse. What happened to Marcy…it wasn’t your fault.”
    Jesse refrained from throwing the pliers at her, and managed
to wait until she’d shut the door to let his head fall to his desk. His stomach
churned with sadness and guilt, along with something else—a ripe, bright,
enticing thing that had to do with the way Christopher Ryder’s cheeks had gone
bright red while they’d talked. Maybe next time Jesse would have the guts to
say yes.
     

Chapter Four

    S MOKY
MOUNTAIN DREAMS HAD A DISTINCT odor that Christopher was inordinately
fond of. It was a mixture of funnel cakes, baked beans, and coffee—as well as
the world’s best iced gingerbread, the flour for which was milled there at the
park. Whenever that particular olfactory mix hit his nose, Christopher knew it
was almost show time.
    The dressing area bustled the way it always did before a
program began, and he had to fight the sharp elbows of one of the girls in the
ice show for a place at the mirror. He smoothed a comb through his hair, and
used a touch of gel to get the front just right. He shuffled around inside his
bag for the foundation and a sponge to smooth out the hints of his skin’s
unevenness. He was spare with it. He’d always had good skin and a face that
didn’t require much touching up.
    He said you glow, boy. Now that means
something.
    No it doesn’t, Gran.
    Sure it does. It means he saw you. The
real you.
    Christopher looked into the mirror as he dabbed on the
makeup. He’d canceled on Jesse a few hours earlier when it became clear that
Lash had no intention of sobering up for the performance.
    Pulling the lightly tinted lip color from his stage makeup
bag and smearing it on his full lips, Christopher sorted through the mixed-up
complexity of his feelings about that. Part of him was disappointed since he
wanted to see what Jesse had cooked up for Gran’s locket. But the larger part
of him felt relief. He’d relived his impulsive decision to ask Jesse out
repeatedly. At first he’d been encouraged by the suggestion that he ask again
on another day, but later he’d started to think that it had been offered out of
pity.
    Or maybe Jesse was straight, and didn’t
know how to handle being hit on by another guy. He’d said he was a fan—and
Christopher didn’t know anything about having fans. Maybe Jesse didn’t want to
burn bridges with a performer he liked.
    And just what’s he going to get out of
kissing your ass? An impromptu concert? Don’t be silly, Christopher.
    “Gee, thanks, Gran. Always so helpful,” he whispered