Smoky Mountain Dreams (5 page)

“Of course you do. And it’ll be great. I promise. Let’s see…”
Jesse consulted the notes. “You mentioned you wanted a gold locket for her. And
you want it to hold four photos. One of each of her grandkids, I’m guessing?”

“Right,” Christopher said.

“And on the back there’s a quote you wanted engraved.”

“Yes.” He hadn’t left it on the machine because he’d been a
little embarrassed to say it out loud back when he’d thought Jesse Birch was an
old man. Now that he was here looking at Jesse’s thick eyelashes and sexy
mouth, he found it even harder. “It’s a song. She used to sing it to me. Well,
she sang it to all of us.”

Christopher remembered vividly the way it felt to be five
years old, tucked up against his grandmother’s side as she rocked him, singing
quietly in his ear until he was warm and sleepy and safe.

“But when she sang it, it felt like it was just for you?”
Jesse asked quietly.

“Yeah. How did you know?”

Jesse stared at him, his gaze lowering down to Christopher’s
mouth, and then slowly coming back up to his eyes again. Christopher’s blood
zipped through his groin, and he bit his cheek in a sudden fear that he might
begin to get hard if Jesse kept looking at him like that.

“I’ve felt like that before. Listening to someone sing.”
Jesse jerked his head down and picked up a pen. “The quote?”

Christopher cleared his throat, but even so the line from “You
Are My Sunshine”
came out in a whisper.

Jesse glanced at him, raw heat flashing across his face, and
then he turned his attention back to his notes. Christopher watched Jesse write
the words down in a square, small script different from the loops of the notes
from the message he’d left.

“It’s cheesy, I know,” Christopher said, wanting to sweep
his embarrassment and arousal away with an apology of sorts.

Jesse sang the first few lines of the song in a soft,
pleasant baritone. His eyes glittered when he broke off and asked, “Will you
sing it? For a fan?”

Is there a hidden camera?
Christopher’s
palms went damp. “I don’t…”

“Never mind. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“No, no, of course not. I mean, I do it for a living—”

“I’m willing to pay.” Jesse’s mouth wobbled suspiciously
like he was going to laugh.

“Are you teasing me?”

“A little, but not about being a fan. Don’t worry about it.”
Jesse looked back at his paper and Christopher wished he’d just done it because
now he felt like he’d not only disappointed Jesse, but somehow failed a test. “The
locket. You mentioned that you didn’t have any particular ideas for the front
design. Were you thinking of something with gemstones, or gold filigree? Maybe
braiding?”

Christopher linked his fingers together and willed his blood
to stop rushing so hard. “I really have no idea. Something pretty, but not too
dainty. She’s a strong woman, and I want it to reflect that.”

“Not too fancy?”

“No. Nothing over the top. She’s eighty, and she’ll probably
be mad I even had this made for her. She’ll tell me it’s a waste of money
because her next stop is the grave, and she won’t need a locket in heaven. That’s
the kind of woman she is.”

“This might not be good business sense, but I’m curious. Why
are you getting it for her then?”

“Because that’s the kind of grandson I am,” Christopher said
with a shrug.

“Because you want her to have it.” Jesse studied him a bit
longer and added, “Because you feel like you owe her for something, and you’ll
never be able to repay her, and you want her to know that you’re grateful, and
that you love her.” Jesse tapped his pen lightly on the paper. “I make a lot of
jewelry for a lot of people, and they all have their reasons. A lot of them are
the same reasons.”

“So you have a lot of customers like me?”

“Not really. But I do have a lot of clients who want to give
the jewelry more than the other person wants to get it. It’s an interesting
thing.” Jesse bit his lower lip and for the first time looked uncomfortable. “But
back to your grandmother…”

Part of Christopher wanted to challenge Jesse’s change of
topic and make him explain what was so interesting about it, but then a tiny
crinkle appeared between Jesse’s eyes and Christopher let him move on.

“Okay, so,” Jesse said. “Do you know if she likes any gems
in particular? Or has any favorite jewelry of her own?”

“No…well, yes. She wears a ring my grandfather brought back
from Germany after the war. And that’s about it.”

“Tell me about it.”

“It’s gold. It has tiny oak leaves that’ve been pinned on
one by one. They hold two baby deer teeth in place. A lot of people think they’re
shiny moonstones or something if you don’t know, but nope, they’re deer teeth.”

“Deer teeth,” Jesse murmured, making notes.

“My grandfather left a gold band with a German jeweler and
said he’d be passing back through in a few months if he survived, and could the
guy please make something beautiful for his girl back home.”

Jesse looked up, focusing intently on Christopher.

“And when he went back, the guy had made him this ring. It
had deer teeth in it.”

“For luck,” Jesse said. “It’s called
Jagdschmuck
.
Hunting jewelry. It’s an old German legend that setting the teeth—or tusk,
bone, or hair—of an animal a hunter had killed into a piece of jewelry would
bring him luck on his next hunt. Interesting symbolism given the war and your
grandfather being a soldier.”

“You think he was passing on his hunting luck to my
grandfather?”

Jesse shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe he just thought your
grandfather wouldn’t come back, and he’d made the ring for himself.”

“It’s a decidedly feminine piece,” Christopher said,
thinking back to the unique ring he’d always seen on his grandmother’s hand.

“Then maybe he was wishing your grandmother luck on snaring
her wild beast of a soldier upon his return.”

Christopher chuckled, his heart tripping a little at the way
Jesse’s thick lashes lay against his cheeks as he smiled down at his notes. “I
suppose we’ll never know.”

“Each piece has a secret story. But the piece will never
tell,” Jesse said, his head down still as he wrote. “I think I have an idea for
the front, but I need some time with it. Can we meet again on…” He consulted a
calendar on his desk. “Wednesday? I’ll have a sketch for you.”

“I could only meet in the evening,” Christopher said. “I’m
scheduled for performances all day.”

“That’s fine. How about six o’clock?”

“Okay, but sometimes I have to take on last-minute shows at
night. It depends on…things.”

“Let me guess, it depends on if Lash is sober enough to get
on the stage, but drunk enough to put on a show,” Jesse said. “Don’t look
surprised. I’ve known Lash since I was a kid. He was drinking even back then.”

“Oh. So you’re from around here?”

Somehow he’d just assumed that Jesse was from somewhere
else. He didn’t have a strong accent, and he had such good taste, and so much
skill. It seemed impossible to Christopher that Jesse could really be from Tennessee,
too.

Well, ain’t you just a little self-hatin’
hick?
Gran scolded in his mind.
You’re Appalachian,
boy. Be proud of it because you ain’t never gonna be nothing else.

Jesse spread his arms wide, encompassing the room, the town,
and the mountains in his next words. “Gatlinburg. Born and bred. Wouldn’t live
anywhere else.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. Okay, let’s plan on Wednesday evening. Just
call me if there’s a problem, and we’ll figure something out. I’m excited to
work with you, Christopher.”

Jesse licked his lips. They were shiny and perfect, and
Christopher could imagine too clearly the slick slide of them against his own.
A coil of want gripped him, and he was struck dumb, unable to reply or even
look away.

Jesse’s tongue darted out again, and his eyes slid down to
Christopher’s mouth. Then he cleared his throat. “I’ll walk you out.”

In his admittedly limited experience, Christopher had never
been wrong about a guy wanting him, but this time he had to be. Unless Jesse
Birch was in the closet, or one of those men who cheated on his wife, or the
kind of man who had never really let himself admit that he was gay. Somehow
Jesse didn’t strike Christopher as any of those things. He seemed far too
comfortable in his own skin, and the way he met Christopher’s eyes was free of
shame or guilt.

As Christopher stood to follow Jesse from the room, he
peeked at the picture again.
Maybe those aren’t his kids
and his wife. Maybe they’re his niece and nephew, and maybe that’s his sister,
or sister-in-law?

“I’ll see you Wednesday, unless Lash gets too drunk to
perform,” Jesse said as they walked into the showroom again. He took the keys
from Amanda, who held them out with a warm smile.

Christopher followed to the front door, his eyes straying
down to Jesse’s ass, outlined nicely in his jeans.

“Okay, well…” Christopher wanted to linger and get away at
the same time.

Sometimes he wished people wore buttons declaring
themselves:
straight and available, gay and up for grabs,
bi and taken.
But maybe even that would be too complicated. After all,
there was also the possibility of
trans and straight
,
or
trans and gay
, and
trans and
bi
, and what about
asexual
? It was mind
boggling that people came in all combinations of sex and gender, almost none of
them knowable at first glance, and yet the world in general made it so hard to
discover what combination any particular individual might be.

“See you Wednesday,” Jesse said again, opening the door.

A rush of fall air washed over Christopher’s face, imbuing
him with new beginnings, like the start of a school year, or the beginning of
football season. He didn’t budge—just let the crisp autumn light shine on him
and Jesse, haloing Jesse’s hair and bringing out the gold flecks in his dark
eyes.

“Wednesday,” Christopher finally parroted. “Thanks for your
time.”

“No problem.” Jesse’s smile was warm and amused.

“Well then. Bye.”

“Bye,” Jesse said, still holding the door. The light seemed
to fold around him, highlighting dust motes in the air, and Christopher’s heart
clenched hard. He wanted to touch him, or touch the light, or both at once. He
wanted to make the moment stretch.

“Bye, Amanda,” Christopher called over his shoulder.

“Mr. Ryder,” she answered.

It was time to go, but his feet weren’t moving, and the
light wasn’t changing, and Jesse wasn’t any less beautiful to look at than he
had been seconds earlier.

“Do you want to, uh, maybe get some coffee?” The words hung
like the glowing dust motes and Christopher felt himself go scarlet as a
prickle of sweat broke over his body.

“Now?” Jesse asked.

“Sure. I’ve got all day.” It was his day off. He’d planned
to drive down to Knoxville to visit Gran and take her out to enjoy the
beautiful weather, but he could cancel for a date with Jesse. “Or…maybe later?
Tonight. Whenever.”

“I’d like to, but I can’t.” Jesse’s eyes shaded slightly,
and he stepped out of the ring of light. “Ask again, though. On another day.”

Christopher’s cheeks burned but he smiled and shrugged. “Sure.
Of course. Bye.”

Disappointment was almost as transporting as his dashed
hope. When he stopped feeling as if he was half out of his body, Christopher
found that he’d gone the wrong direction down the parkway. He backtracked and
found a street that would lead him up to his home without passing Jesse’s
studio again.

“He was cute,” Amanda said, following Jesse back to his
office.

Jesse said nothing, choosing to ignore her innuendo-laden
tone. The truth was Christopher’s green eyes and milky skin were gorgeous, and
the column of his neck begged to be kissed. Not to mention, he’d been
distracted during the meeting by the faint softness of Christopher’s slim body
under his clothes. That was a body type Jesse had always been drawn to in a
guy. Thin but not too bony, not too large, and definitely not too muscled.
Everything was just right, and offered up the possibility for hours of
comfortable cuddling.

So yes, Christopher was cute. More than cute.

Amanda didn’t stop there though. “You don’t have anything
else lined up today.”

Jesse shrugged. “Someone’s got to get Brigid and Will from
school. Nova’s got a doctor’s appointment.”

Marcy’s doctor’s appointment actually. Yet another that
would result in Nova and Tim wanting to talk with him about “the situation” and
“releasing the burden.” As if the pressure from the ongoing mediation meetings
with Ronnie wasn’t bad enough.

“I could pick up the kids.”

“Yep, you could,” Jesse said, busying himself with tidying
his desk, though there really wasn’t much to put away. “But I’m going to.”