Bone to Pick by May Archer

Author:May Archer [Archer, May]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-10-30T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Six

THEO

I had to admit to feeling just a little smug. After months of disappointment and frustration, I’d finally been able to prove my point to Porter by teaching him the power of a well-crafted piece of non-fiction. Now it was just a matter of providing constructive criticism to help him through his first attempt.

“I’m going to make some phone calls about tree removal while you get your thoughts together,” I said before standing up and stretching again. I pulled out my laptop to look up the numbers I needed.

The second company I called said they’d be able to come out Monday morning if I was lucky, whereas the first company didn’t even answer their phones due to the demand. I booked in for Monday and called one of my neighbors to ask about how the mountain roads were. According to him, our section of the mountain was blocked in on all sides by other downed trees. Thankfully, there was no evidence of car accidents or personal injuries in the area. After I hung up, I told Porter what I’d learned.

“Neighbor said we’d be lucky to get the road cleared tomorrow. Earliest they can do my driveway is Monday. You’re stuck here for at least three more nights.” We were stuck together that long. And my bed hadn’t gotten any bigger. In fact, I was pretty sure it shrank every time I glanced at it.

“Okay. I guess that’s plenty of time for me to make a convincing argument, then, huh?” Porter said brightly.

“You think it’s going to take you three days?” I deadpanned.

“I suppose it depends on how stubborn you are,” he said.

The teasing light in his eyes as he gestured for me to take my seat at the table again should have been my first clue that I was in trouble. Then he began to speak.

“My first kiss was with a girl named Rochelle.”

I blinked and opened my mouth to protest—what possible subject could he be arguing that began with an admission like that? I was afraid I knew—but then I shut it again.

He was twenty-six years old. An adult man who knew his mind. I was an adult, too, and capable of listening without being swayed. Wasn’t I the one who’d told him to make his argument personal?

“Go on,” I said roughly.

“I was sixteen at the time—we both were—but I’d been attracted to guys and only guys for several years by then. I hadn’t officially come out, but I was pretty confident I was gay. My family low-key knew it. Rochelle knew it. Heck, the whole town knew it, and no one was very surprised since I already had two gay brothers and a gay uncle, and the Sundays were developing a bit of a reputation for being pretty gay. But Rochelle’s father was the minister at a very fundamentalist church in Two Rivers, the next town over from Little Pippin Hollow. And Rochelle was a bit of a rebel. So she kissed me, out of the blue,

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