“Trying to figure out a million things at once,” Holden answered.
“We need to get the Apple Stop ready for holiday activities.” When Grady frowned, Roe explained, “It’s where we serve apple donuts in the fall. And then in December, my parents do all sorts of things—a giving tree, visits with Santa, stuff like that. Mom put off getting some work done this last summer, and now we’re regretting it. Of course, everything has to go wrong, and things keep breaking. Holden’s trying to do it all himself instead of letting Mom hire a bigger company. He’s a one-man operation. I help when I can, the boys too, but work and school make it tough.” Since working there, Grady had learned that Roe had a son, Wyatt, with his best friend, Lindsey. He was thirteen or fourteen, something like that. And Holden had a nephew, Sean, who was the same age.
“They’re family. I want to come through for them,” Holden said, and Grady thought Roe was going to melt into a puddle then and there or jump his boyfriend’s bones. The look he gave Holden was both smoldering and sweet.
Roe rested a hand on the back of Holden’s neck and squeezed. “You’ve done a lot for them. No one will fault you because you’re not a superhero.”
Roe tugged him closer and kissed his temple, just as Holden said, “I resent that. I’m a badass motherfucker.”
The three of them laughed. It was evident how in love the two men were, and Grady couldn’t help wondering if he would ever have that. He’d been in serious relationships, even long-term, but he couldn’t ever remember looking at someone the way Roe and Holden looked at each other. Damned if he didn’t want it.
“Well, no obligation or anything,” Grady found himself saying, “but when I’m off here, if you ever need help, I’d be willing. I don’t have a ton going on yet, don’t really know many people here, and I’m only working part-time. I know my way around fixing things.”
“Really?” Holden cocked a brow. “That’d actually be great. It wouldn’t be consistent work or anything, just an odd job here or there. And the store would come first, of course.”
“You trying to steal my help?” Roe teased.
“It’s for the farm, baby,” Holden joked back, then asked Grady, “What’s your schedule like next week?”
Grady let him know what days he was working and when he was free. “Monday I’ll be at Sundae’s Best. I’m helping Deacon out with a new ice cream flavor.”
Both men just stood there staring at him for a moment, Roe’s gaze more intense and penetrating. “You’re helping Deacon make ice cream?”
Grady nodded, not sure why that was such a big deal. “I had dinner at his place, and he mentioned working on a new flavor. We came up with an idea.”
“You got to come up with a flavor? I want to do that,” Holden said playfully.
“You’ve had dinner at Deke’s house?” Roe asked.
Grady scratched the back of his neck. “I know things were a little heated before, but we worked that out. I didn’t come here to hurt him.”
“No, no,” Roe rushed out. “I didn’t mean that. It’s just…it’s good for him. Deke has kept himself pretty closed off since losing Patricia, so it’s good to see him making new friends. But I have to say, I’ve never heard of him showing someone how to make ice cream.”
Grady shifted uncomfortably. Now he was unsure. He’d sensed the same thing when he’d jokingly asked Deacon to teach him, but then he’d agreed, and even when Grady had reiterated that he didn’t have to, they’d still made the plan.
“Maybe he likes Grady more than you,” Holden teased.
“Ah, hell. I’m doing the whole Briar County gossipy, jump-to-conclusions thing, aren’t I? Ignore everything I just said.” The three of them chuckled again, but Grady still couldn’t stop thinking about what Roe had said, wondering if he’d overstepped with Deacon.
“Anyway,” Holden said, “I need to get out of here. I gotta pick up the boys from football practice.” Holden leaned over and kissed Roe, then turned to Grady. “I’d love your help next week, if you can.”
“Sounds good. Can probably only manage one day, but I’ll be there. Roe has my number.”
Grady and Holden told Roe goodbye before walking out together. They parted ways in the lot, and then he was on his way back to Everett—and now he spent the whole damn drive wondering if he shouldn’t have agreed to name the ice cream, or if it was too much when he’d joked about learning to make it.
By the time he pulled into town, he’d managed to shove those thoughts away. Deacon was a strong man. He knew what he wanted, and he wouldn’t have agreed if it wasn’t something he felt comfortable with.
With that in mind, and once he was parked in his driveway, he sent the text. I owe you dinner.