His face turned to mine, one brow up to match that rising corner of his lips. “What would you say if I answered yes?”
Damn. “That I wouldn’t blame you. I don’t know that there’s a human in town who wouldn’t hit that, and the ones who say they wouldn’t are liars.”
He assessed the back of Wyatt’s truck for a second. “He’s not my type.”
“Because he’s a man?”
“No, because he’s got a boyfriend.”
My mouth popped open. “How do you know that? Is that some secondary mode of gaydar?”
“I ate at Abuelita’s last night and saw him with one of the cooks.”
I paused, processing. “So you’re gay?”
He shifted to face me, resting his hand on the back of my seat. A cursory glance revealed that goddamn smirk again. “Would you be disappointed if I was?”
Yes.
Ew, shut up.
“It would make things a lot simpler,” I admitted.
Under his gaze, I felt like a deer in the sights of a mountain lion. “Would it?”
My cheeks warmed. “Only because you run around town with your dick swinging like a firehose somebody let go of.”
Another laugh, this one hearty enough that he looked out the window to hide his face.
“I’m just saying—four women live in my house, and when a man comes running by with a thing like that untethered in his pants, it feels like an advertisement.”
“Funny, I didn’t think anyone in that house would entertain me for another glass of sweet tea, never mind handling my firehose.”
I snorted a laugh. “Would you answer me already?”
He shrugged, glancing at Wyatt’s rear end again. “I like what I like.”
Still unsure, I asked, “And you like what’s in Wyatt’s Wranglers?”
At that, he gave me a promissory look that sent a shock of heat straight between my legs. “Among other things.”
Message received.
“Ever hear of the Kinsey scale?” he asked.
“No,” I admitted, annoyed that he knew anything I didn’t.
“It was a study done in the 40s that determined that everyone’s sexuality fit in a section of a scale—zero is strictly hetero and six is strictly homosexual. It’s a little dated now, but the idea is that there’s no one or the other, but a gradient. I’m somewhere in the middle.”
Surprised but mostly relieved, I said, “I always say everyone’s a little gay under the right circumstance.”
When he laughed, I knew he knew I was relieved and cursed myself for all but admitting I’d pony up.
But rather than prolong my embarrassment, I changed the subject. “Now that we know how you feel about Wyatt’s ass, how do you feel about bees?”
He glanced out the window, considering. “I think I’m indifferent. But ask me again when I’m face-to-face with a hive.”
“They’re only scary if you’re scared.”
“Never would have guessed.”
“What I mean is, if you trust them, they trust you. If you walk into it scared, they know and will likely see you as a threat. Which is when you get stung.”
He rearranged his suit in his lap. “Where’s your suit?”
“I don’t have one.”
“You don’t … have one?”
“Don’t need one,” I said with a smile in his direction as I put the truck in park next to Wyatt.
Before he could ask any more questions, I opened the door and climbed out.
Wyatt stood next to a shed, looking at the door dubiously with his hands on narrow hips.
“Heya, JoJo,” he said, still eyeing the shed.
“Hey. You gonna help me do this?”
“Hell no. You’re on your own, kid.” He nodded toward the shed. “Opened it up yesterday and got swarmed. I dunno where they even are in there.”
“You ran,” I said around a snicker.
“Fuck yeah, I ran. I ain’t even ashamed. Mighta screamed a little too.” He glanced back at the truck. “The hell’s he doing here?”
“Oh, Grant? I’m gonna scare the shit out of him.”
A laugh cracked out of him like a whip as Grant walked up, his beekeeper suit awkward in his hands and his eyes on the shed like there was a bomb inside.
Wyatt reached around me, extending a hand to Grant. “Name’s Wyatt. Good to meet ya.”
Grant took his hand and pumped it. “Grant,” was all he said.
Probably because I’d walked up to the shed door and opened it without pause.
A cloud of bees zipped out, some hovering and lighting on me. “Hey, babies. Don’t worry—I won’t hurt you.”
“Well, that’s my cue,” Wyatt said from his open truck door, which was too far away to have gotten to at a normal human pace.
“How the hell did he—” I muttered.
“He ran,” Grant answered.
Wyatt was waving out the window. “Come find me when you’re done, kid.”
I just waved and chuckled. He was already too far gone to hear me making fun of him, so I kept it to myself.
The shuffling of material drew my attention back to Grant, who was stepping into the suit.
“Here, let me help you,” I said, moving behind him to help him into the arms.
“Are you sure this gonna fit me?”
“I’m sure.”
“I don’t know—oh!” he said when it was fitted nicely on his shoulders. “Why do you have a suit this big?”
I stepped around to the front of him, showing him the loops for his fingers in the sleeves to keep the wrists sealed. My eyes fixed on my hands, and a placid smile touched my lips. “It was my daddy’s.” Before he could respond, I hitched on my tiptoes to arrange his hood. “You’re gonna want to make sure this is all zipped up. You might be a little claustrophobic, but try to keep breathing and remember you’re safe in there. I mean, maybe not from the heat, but the bees won’t get you.”
A pause while he let me get him the rest of the way in the suit. “If I’m scared, will that mess the bees up for you?”
“Worried about my safety?”
“Shouldn’t I be?”
“How about you just let me handle them, and you hang back a little. We’ll see what they do.”
I pulled the zipper closed on his hood, still avoiding his eyes. He smelled like mint and soap and man, and I decided I should never be this close to him again.
It was real hard to hate him when I wanted to climb him like a jungle gym.
I reached into his front pockets, surprising him as planned. I dangled elbow-length gloves in front of him and left him to fend for himself while I unpacked the brood boxes from my truck and headed for the shed.
He grabbed me by the arm before I reached it. “Hang on. Don’t you need smoke or something?”
One of my brows rose. “Are you questioning my authority?”
“No, I just—”
“I think I’ve got this, Stone.” When he didn’t remove his hand from my person, I added, “If you don’t mind…”
He let me go and exhaled audibly as he peered into the dark shed. And with a smile on my face, I ducked into the den, humming.