The Guy #3.5
Two proposals. One giant dog. Reunited lovers.
Welcome to Glamour, Arizona, where the holidays are never dull. Glamour may be a small town, but the surprises keep coming.
Everybody’s looking forward to Thanksgiving. Only Mac Sharma is a reluctant guest. Even as Anthony and Dean make him feel welcome at the Carrino table, Mac feels awkward among the close-knit group of friends. Life gets even more complicated when Conor Harvey shows up in town.
Mac has been in love with Conor since his university days. Too bad Conor broke his heart—right before he fled to his hometown in Ireland without explanation. Conor’s still a wild artist and as sexy as Mac remembers. But they’re no longer kids. This Thanksgiving, Mac must decide if he can give Conor a second chance.
NOTE: This book was previously published under the same title. The new edition has been reformatted, with new front and back matter, but the overall story is the same.
First off I just want to say I loved that the author centered this holiday tale around Thanksgiving instead of Christmas. Don't get me wrong I love Christmas tales but it's refreshing to see Turkey Day get a story. I loved seeing everyone from the first 3 books come together and in doing so we get to see how each couple is doing and a peek at their future. I enjoyed getting a closer look at Max but I do wish his and Conor's story would have been a little longer but the story as a whole is engaging, loving, and plain fun.
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Chapter One
MAC DIDN’T really want to go, but he had little choice. He’d made a promise to a friend. White bleached the sky, the few small trees on his block stripped and vulnerable looking. He was late because it was freezing cold in New York that November, and he’d gone back to his apartment for a warmer scarf and his cashmere gloves, and after that his taxi hit traffic on the way to LaGuardia. Just how many people traveled the week before Thanksgiving, anyway?
Too many. Mac’s face soured as the taxi slowed to a crawl. It was another fifteen minutes before the airport came into view.
“Seventy-five dollars, mister.”
“Here you go. Keep the change.”
“Awright. You want help with your bags?”
“No, I’ll manage.”
It was only the one bag, after all. Mac made it a point to travel light and pack smart.
The moment he saw him, Mac was sorry he was late. Jesse was in full-blown panic mode. Jesse’s face was a mottled red, his eyes huge and darting all around, his skin pale. With a soft curse, Mac began to move through the check-in hall, tugging at the buttons on his winter coat and wheeling his carry-on behind him.
“Maybe we shouldn’t go?” Jesse gasped, without any hellos. “I can skip it. And the weather is so cold. What if the plane ices? Let’s forget it. And where were you?” He tapped his watch. “We need at least forty-five minutes to go through security.”
Mac waited until he was done with his litany. He had come to expect this with Jesse when air travel was involved.
“No, we’re going. You’re fine. The plane is fine.” He unbuttoned the rest of his coat. The airport’s heat warmed him. “Do you have a good outfit?” Mac eyed Jesse’s usual wardrobe and shuddered. Jesse favored sloppy T-shirts, and his blond hair was often unkempt, wild. Mac, on the other hand, preferred to always be well-groomed. Together he and Jesse must look like quite the mismatched pair. “You did pack something clean?”
Jesse rolled his eyes. “People will be looking at my art—”
“And you. People will be looking at you. They like to know the artist. You have to sell yourself. We go over this every single time, Jesse.”
“And I hate it every single time. But yes, I packed something nice and clean to impress everybody.”
“Thank God.”
“Snob.”
“Slob.”
“Fuck you.” But Jesse’s mouth lifted at the corners.
Mac cracked a smile.
TWO WEEKS ago, Jesse had asked Mac to his cabin for dinner. Except for his boyfriend, Aaron, who lived with him, Jesse was a recluse. He rarely left his property. He was also a first-rate sculptor, so Mac, being his agent, assumed Jesse wanted to chat about his latest sales, but that was not the case. Jesse had bigger plans.
He was smart about it. He fed Mac, who rarely cooked, a delicious dinner first. Jesse lulled Mac into contentment with his pasta primavera and a good Merlot. The wine was perfection on Mac’s tongue, with the essence of raspberries and the texture of satin, and Mac was having a second glass by the fireplace when Jesse finally got to his reason for having Mac visit.
“I have a favor to ask.”
“Sure. What is it?”
“You agreed before you even know?”
Mac shrugged. It was no secret he was a sucker for his friends. “What d’you need?”
“You. On an airplane with me.”
“Oh shit. Are we talking about the Southwestern Art Expo? The one in Arizona? And more importantly, are you going to be medicated?”
“Yes, I have my prescription all set. Unfortunately Aaron can’t fly out until a few days later—he’s in the city to test a new game he designed—but I need to be there by the start of the show. You did arrange it for me.”
“I’ll check my calendar. It’s right before Thanksgiving, isn’t it?”
“Yes. And after the show, you get to stay a few extra days. Aaron and I will be going to Glamour. It’s just outside of Phoenix. You can stay there for the holiday and meet our friends Anthony and Dean.”
“I’m sure they’re fabulous—” Mac paused and his mouth thinned. The thought of celebrating Thanksgiving with a bunch of happy gay couples while he was the only single guy didn’t thrill him. “—but I’ll fly back here after the expo.”
“No, you can’t!” Jesse clutched his arm. “You have to stay!”
“Why? I get why you need me for the flight there, but what does it matter if I stay for the holiday?”
“Because….” Jesse’s voice faltered.
“Because?”
Jesse looked at him shyly. “I’m planning to surprise Aaron and propose on Thanksgiving weekend. And I really want my best friend to be with me out there for some moral support. Okay? You may need to pick me up off the floor if Aaron says no.”
“He’ll say yes. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“But you’ll stay?”
Mac sighed. “Fine….” He let the word be dragged out of him. “I’ll stay through Thanksgiving.”
So here he was in an overcrowded airport when he’d much rather be home. Mac tried to keep Jesse busy. They ate sandwiches and bought the latest thrillers from the convenience store. When none of that relaxed Jesse, Mac tried discussing work as Jesse stared anxiously out the window.
“It’ll be fine,” Mac said reassuringly. “A smooth flight.”
“Look.” Jesse held out his buzzing phone.
Aaron had texted a picture. In it, he was making a goofy face and giving two thumbs up.
“Cute.”
“Isn’t it? And look at this other one he sent me.” Jesse’s two dogs, Superman and Dolly, held up a sign that read: “You Can Do It! We Believe in You.”
Aaron ended his texts with the message: And I’ll see you in a few more days XXOO.
“God, I’m lucky.” Jesse beamed at his phone and then pressed it to his chest. “I can’t wait for the show to be all done and Aaron to meet me in Glamour at the dinner.”
“Oh, come on. Think of how your work is being displayed at the expo. You’re a top draw there. That means something.”
Jesse made a face. “That means I gotta make small talk with more people. Nope, I’ll be happy it’s over.”
“No part of it interests you? Like, I don’t know… selling your sculptures? Making money?”
“That’s what interests you, Mac.”
“True, and as I always tell you, nothing wrong with profiting from your art. People come to this expo from all over the world. They come to spend.”
“The only part of the show I’m excited for is judging the debut sculptor category. It’ll be cool to see what new talent is up-and-coming.”
“Up-and-coming talent,” Mac scoffed. “There’s no money to be made in them.”
“You took a chance on me when I was up and coming.” Jesse smiled, and Mac ignored him.
They boarded the plane a few minutes later. Mac toed off his Italian loafers, flexed his feet, and began to flip through a magazine while his eyes grew heavy. What seemed only a short time later, he woke abruptly. His ears filled and popped and he realized they were going to land. Next to him, Jesse had a stranglehold on his armrest.
“Please, please, please,” Jesse moaned softly.
Poor Jesse. It must be hard to battle your inner demons. Mac gave him credit for making the flight and not giving in to his anxiety. Jesse was one of the best artists Mac had ever met. Mac was a first-class agent. He could spot talent. Jesse’s ability had blown him away.
His mind started to wander to other great artists he’d met. Only one man was as talented as Jesse, and that was Conor Harvey.
Conor. Jesus. Mac hadn’t thought about him in forever. An unwanted image of Conor came into Mac’s mind. He was so wickedly handsome, with that roguish grin, square jaw, and those sparkling blue eyes that hinted of something just a little naughty. Mac could practically hear the gorgeous Irish lilt of Conor’s voice. He shuddered. Everyone in their art class had wanted Conor. Mac had spent weeks trying to hide how much he wanted him too. He’d never felt that way before. Growing up, he had been a late bloomer. But one look and his raging hormones spiraled out of control. When Conor noticed him and asked him out, Mac could barely believe it. He’d agonized over their first date, praying he wouldn’t look foolish.
Mac gritted his teeth. It must be Jesse and all his love and marriage talk affecting Mac’s brain today. He’d spent the past decade getting over Conor, but today his emotions cornered him.
Thank goodness Conor, wherever he was, couldn’t still be the same sexy youth who had crushed his heart.
Jesse groaned again and Mac reached out to rub his shoulder.
“Remember how scared you were to have Aaron around again? How you’d loved him since you were a snot-nosed kid following him around, and then later you were his pen pal while he was in the Army? That all worked out for you, Jesse. This will be fine too. I have no doubt. Think of good things. Think of Aaron….”
Jesse was pale and tight-lipped, but Mac continued to talk. “Who’re you looking forward to seeing in Arizona the most?”
“Anthony and Dean, of course. Dean’s Aaron’s best friend from the Army. He’s a great guy.”
“Why did Dean leave the Night Stalkers? I know Aaron left because of his heart—”
“His niece, Nicki. Her mother died and Dean needed to go stateside and become her legal guardian.”
“That’s tough.”
Jesse nodded. “But he found Anthony, so it was all meant to be.”
“Such a romantic.” Mac snorted.
“And proud of it.” Jesse grinned. “And you remind me of Locke, the way you said that. You’ll like him and Henry.”
“Who’s Locke?” Mac asked, mostly to keep Jesse’s mind on other things as the plane descended.
“He’s a sheriff in Glamour, and he worked with Anthony’s dad. I met them at Dean and Anthony’s wedding. Don’t know him that well, but Locke seemed like he hated everyone and everything at that reception, especially poor Henry. But then they disappeared at the wedding, and the next thing I heard, they were living together.”
Mac asked a few more questions about Glamour and tried to put happy thoughts in Jesse’s mind. He didn’t stop chatting until the plane touched ground.
“Welcome to Phoenix,” the captain said after they landed. “The local time is one o’clock and the temperature is ninety-two degrees.”
“Jesus,” Mac grumbled as they disembarked from the plane. “This is going to be one hot Thanksgiving.”
Jesse didn’t reply. He was busy mouthing “Thank you” to the powers that be. Then he looked at Mac. “And thank you.”
“Did I help?”
“Absolutely.”
Mac smiled. He was glad for Jesse. Any twinges of loneliness he pushed firmly away. He was Makarand Sharma, who had defied his traditional parents and stormed into the art world at the age of twenty-two full of piss and vinegar. And he’d become a huge success. He didn’t need anything else.
“I can’t wait for Aaron to arrive!” Jesse’s face lit up. “This will be the trip of a lifetime.”
MAC DIDN’T really want to go, but he had little choice. He’d made a promise to a friend. White bleached the sky, the few small trees on his block stripped and vulnerable looking. He was late because it was freezing cold in New York that November, and he’d gone back to his apartment for a warmer scarf and his cashmere gloves, and after that his taxi hit traffic on the way to LaGuardia. Just how many people traveled the week before Thanksgiving, anyway?
Too many. Mac’s face soured as the taxi slowed to a crawl. It was another fifteen minutes before the airport came into view.
“Seventy-five dollars, mister.”
“Here you go. Keep the change.”
“Awright. You want help with your bags?”
“No, I’ll manage.”
It was only the one bag, after all. Mac made it a point to travel light and pack smart.
The moment he saw him, Mac was sorry he was late. Jesse was in full-blown panic mode. Jesse’s face was a mottled red, his eyes huge and darting all around, his skin pale. With a soft curse, Mac began to move through the check-in hall, tugging at the buttons on his winter coat and wheeling his carry-on behind him.
“Maybe we shouldn’t go?” Jesse gasped, without any hellos. “I can skip it. And the weather is so cold. What if the plane ices? Let’s forget it. And where were you?” He tapped his watch. “We need at least forty-five minutes to go through security.”
Mac waited until he was done with his litany. He had come to expect this with Jesse when air travel was involved.
“No, we’re going. You’re fine. The plane is fine.” He unbuttoned the rest of his coat. The airport’s heat warmed him. “Do you have a good outfit?” Mac eyed Jesse’s usual wardrobe and shuddered. Jesse favored sloppy T-shirts, and his blond hair was often unkempt, wild. Mac, on the other hand, preferred to always be well-groomed. Together he and Jesse must look like quite the mismatched pair. “You did pack something clean?”
Jesse rolled his eyes. “People will be looking at my art—”
“And you. People will be looking at you. They like to know the artist. You have to sell yourself. We go over this every single time, Jesse.”
“And I hate it every single time. But yes, I packed something nice and clean to impress everybody.”
“Thank God.”
“Snob.”
“Slob.”
“Fuck you.” But Jesse’s mouth lifted at the corners.
Mac cracked a smile.
TWO WEEKS ago, Jesse had asked Mac to his cabin for dinner. Except for his boyfriend, Aaron, who lived with him, Jesse was a recluse. He rarely left his property. He was also a first-rate sculptor, so Mac, being his agent, assumed Jesse wanted to chat about his latest sales, but that was not the case. Jesse had bigger plans.
He was smart about it. He fed Mac, who rarely cooked, a delicious dinner first. Jesse lulled Mac into contentment with his pasta primavera and a good Merlot. The wine was perfection on Mac’s tongue, with the essence of raspberries and the texture of satin, and Mac was having a second glass by the fireplace when Jesse finally got to his reason for having Mac visit.
“I have a favor to ask.”
“Sure. What is it?”
“You agreed before you even know?”
Mac shrugged. It was no secret he was a sucker for his friends. “What d’you need?”
“You. On an airplane with me.”
“Oh shit. Are we talking about the Southwestern Art Expo? The one in Arizona? And more importantly, are you going to be medicated?”
“Yes, I have my prescription all set. Unfortunately Aaron can’t fly out until a few days later—he’s in the city to test a new game he designed—but I need to be there by the start of the show. You did arrange it for me.”
“I’ll check my calendar. It’s right before Thanksgiving, isn’t it?”
“Yes. And after the show, you get to stay a few extra days. Aaron and I will be going to Glamour. It’s just outside of Phoenix. You can stay there for the holiday and meet our friends Anthony and Dean.”
“I’m sure they’re fabulous—” Mac paused and his mouth thinned. The thought of celebrating Thanksgiving with a bunch of happy gay couples while he was the only single guy didn’t thrill him. “—but I’ll fly back here after the expo.”
“No, you can’t!” Jesse clutched his arm. “You have to stay!”
“Why? I get why you need me for the flight there, but what does it matter if I stay for the holiday?”
“Because….” Jesse’s voice faltered.
“Because?”
Jesse looked at him shyly. “I’m planning to surprise Aaron and propose on Thanksgiving weekend. And I really want my best friend to be with me out there for some moral support. Okay? You may need to pick me up off the floor if Aaron says no.”
“He’ll say yes. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“But you’ll stay?”
Mac sighed. “Fine….” He let the word be dragged out of him. “I’ll stay through Thanksgiving.”
So here he was in an overcrowded airport when he’d much rather be home. Mac tried to keep Jesse busy. They ate sandwiches and bought the latest thrillers from the convenience store. When none of that relaxed Jesse, Mac tried discussing work as Jesse stared anxiously out the window.
“It’ll be fine,” Mac said reassuringly. “A smooth flight.”
“Look.” Jesse held out his buzzing phone.
Aaron had texted a picture. In it, he was making a goofy face and giving two thumbs up.
“Cute.”
“Isn’t it? And look at this other one he sent me.” Jesse’s two dogs, Superman and Dolly, held up a sign that read: “You Can Do It! We Believe in You.”
Aaron ended his texts with the message: And I’ll see you in a few more days XXOO.
“God, I’m lucky.” Jesse beamed at his phone and then pressed it to his chest. “I can’t wait for the show to be all done and Aaron to meet me in Glamour at the dinner.”
“Oh, come on. Think of how your work is being displayed at the expo. You’re a top draw there. That means something.”
Jesse made a face. “That means I gotta make small talk with more people. Nope, I’ll be happy it’s over.”
“No part of it interests you? Like, I don’t know… selling your sculptures? Making money?”
“That’s what interests you, Mac.”
“True, and as I always tell you, nothing wrong with profiting from your art. People come to this expo from all over the world. They come to spend.”
“The only part of the show I’m excited for is judging the debut sculptor category. It’ll be cool to see what new talent is up-and-coming.”
“Up-and-coming talent,” Mac scoffed. “There’s no money to be made in them.”
“You took a chance on me when I was up and coming.” Jesse smiled, and Mac ignored him.
They boarded the plane a few minutes later. Mac toed off his Italian loafers, flexed his feet, and began to flip through a magazine while his eyes grew heavy. What seemed only a short time later, he woke abruptly. His ears filled and popped and he realized they were going to land. Next to him, Jesse had a stranglehold on his armrest.
“Please, please, please,” Jesse moaned softly.
Poor Jesse. It must be hard to battle your inner demons. Mac gave him credit for making the flight and not giving in to his anxiety. Jesse was one of the best artists Mac had ever met. Mac was a first-class agent. He could spot talent. Jesse’s ability had blown him away.
His mind started to wander to other great artists he’d met. Only one man was as talented as Jesse, and that was Conor Harvey.
Conor. Jesus. Mac hadn’t thought about him in forever. An unwanted image of Conor came into Mac’s mind. He was so wickedly handsome, with that roguish grin, square jaw, and those sparkling blue eyes that hinted of something just a little naughty. Mac could practically hear the gorgeous Irish lilt of Conor’s voice. He shuddered. Everyone in their art class had wanted Conor. Mac had spent weeks trying to hide how much he wanted him too. He’d never felt that way before. Growing up, he had been a late bloomer. But one look and his raging hormones spiraled out of control. When Conor noticed him and asked him out, Mac could barely believe it. He’d agonized over their first date, praying he wouldn’t look foolish.
Mac gritted his teeth. It must be Jesse and all his love and marriage talk affecting Mac’s brain today. He’d spent the past decade getting over Conor, but today his emotions cornered him.
Thank goodness Conor, wherever he was, couldn’t still be the same sexy youth who had crushed his heart.
Jesse groaned again and Mac reached out to rub his shoulder.
“Remember how scared you were to have Aaron around again? How you’d loved him since you were a snot-nosed kid following him around, and then later you were his pen pal while he was in the Army? That all worked out for you, Jesse. This will be fine too. I have no doubt. Think of good things. Think of Aaron….”
Jesse was pale and tight-lipped, but Mac continued to talk. “Who’re you looking forward to seeing in Arizona the most?”
“Anthony and Dean, of course. Dean’s Aaron’s best friend from the Army. He’s a great guy.”
“Why did Dean leave the Night Stalkers? I know Aaron left because of his heart—”
“His niece, Nicki. Her mother died and Dean needed to go stateside and become her legal guardian.”
“That’s tough.”
Jesse nodded. “But he found Anthony, so it was all meant to be.”
“Such a romantic.” Mac snorted.
“And proud of it.” Jesse grinned. “And you remind me of Locke, the way you said that. You’ll like him and Henry.”
“Who’s Locke?” Mac asked, mostly to keep Jesse’s mind on other things as the plane descended.
“He’s a sheriff in Glamour, and he worked with Anthony’s dad. I met them at Dean and Anthony’s wedding. Don’t know him that well, but Locke seemed like he hated everyone and everything at that reception, especially poor Henry. But then they disappeared at the wedding, and the next thing I heard, they were living together.”
Mac asked a few more questions about Glamour and tried to put happy thoughts in Jesse’s mind. He didn’t stop chatting until the plane touched ground.
“Welcome to Phoenix,” the captain said after they landed. “The local time is one o’clock and the temperature is ninety-two degrees.”
“Jesus,” Mac grumbled as they disembarked from the plane. “This is going to be one hot Thanksgiving.”
Jesse didn’t reply. He was busy mouthing “Thank you” to the powers that be. Then he looked at Mac. “And thank you.”
“Did I help?”
“Absolutely.”
Mac smiled. He was glad for Jesse. Any twinges of loneliness he pushed firmly away. He was Makarand Sharma, who had defied his traditional parents and stormed into the art world at the age of twenty-two full of piss and vinegar. And he’d become a huge success. He didn’t need anything else.
“I can’t wait for Aaron to arrive!” Jesse’s face lit up. “This will be the trip of a lifetime.”
Emotional, Roller-Coaster Romance
Skylar M. Cates loves a good, heartfelt romance, especially ones that are both steamy and emotionally satisfying. She is quite happy to drink some coffee, curl up with a good book, and not move all day. Her novels feature strong, passionate characters who care about their friends and family. Skylar loves to craft stories where people are challenged by vulnerable situations. Although lately the laundry room is the farthest place she has visited, Skylar still loves to chat with people from all around the globe. Contact her on Twitter, Facebook, or through her newsletter.
A Guy's Thanksgiving #3.5
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