Scorching the Neighborhood

Men of Rugged Heights, Volume 6

Jaylen Florian

Published by Jaylen Florian, 2019.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

SCORCHING THE NEIGHBORHOOD

First edition. August 3, 2019.

Copyright © 2019 Jaylen Florian.

Written by Jaylen Florian.

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Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Books by Jaylen Florian

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Author's Note

Books by Jaylen Florian

Novels, novellas, short stories, and book bundles by Jaylen Florian include:

Antonio's Mask

Arousing Euphoria: Rugby Team Bundle

Baseball Star's Gift

Cobra De Capello

Covet

Daring the Neighborhood

Garage

Ghost Town

Guarding His Fortunes

Guarding His Jewels

Hollywood Tease

Lured

Macho

Patrolling the Neighborhood

Prowling the Neighborhood

Rugby Test: Hypnotic Temptation

Scorching the Neighborhood

Uncovering Machismo

Untame

Uplifting Sports Romance: College Gay Bundle

Welcoming the Neighborhood

#

Chapter 1

The sneaking around had become the funnest part of these quirky late night encounters.

Reece was aware of this as he creeped along the dark sidewalks.  Well past midnight, most of the porch lights of the neighborhood houses had long since been extinguished.  When a stray car rolled by, Reece looked downward, hiding his face even more with the beak of his ball cap.  Sometimes, if the car approached at an angle where he couldn't conceal his features, he'd simply turn around and walk in the opposite direction, permitting the vehicle lights to only strike the backside of his clothes.

A young adult, he really had nothing to be ashamed of moving about his neighborhood any time he damn well pleased.  That wasn't the point, though.  It wasn't the fear of the law that most concerned him, nor even the fear of crime, especially since Rugged Heights had a reputation for being one of the safest suburban neighborhoods in the region. 

What Reece feared most was idle gossip.  The last thing he needed was chatter that he was lurking and ambling about the neighborhood, somehow up to no good, and desperate for trouble.  Sure, an occasional rendezvous was gratifying, on some levels, but it sometimes left him feeling lonelier than before.  Reece yearned for more.  He had begun thinking about the intimate moments that could come after sex, like cuddling and developing trust and rapport.  Reece was still seeking answers, nothing was figured out yet for certain, but he knew the greatest pleasures with other men might actually occur outside of the bedroom.

Or, in this case, the swimming pool. 

It was the neighborhood pool he was headed to tonight.  Skinny-dipping with the security guard in the dark would again lead to some underwater body contact, then a blowjob, and that was about it.  But some nights, that was just what Reece craved.  It'd be a terrible shame though, he thought, if playing this game blocked him from getting what he really needed.  That's where the gossip could really do damage, if it resulted in him not ever getting a second look by the man he desired the most.

Reece was coming upon Julian's driveway now.  Julian, the fire captain, the man who was nearly his obsession.  Reece made a point of walking by Julian's house each chance he could get, even though it meant a detour and longer route to the pool.  But whatever inconvenience it caused him was of little concern.  Reece felt a jolt of excitement just being near Julian's home, knowing he was asleep somewhere inside, even though the house was pitch dark and still.

When he had first laid eyes on Julian, inside the health food mart, Reece felt the breath knocked out of his lungs.  It was that powerful, an attraction so immediate and consuming.  Uniformed, in black slacks and boots, and a black button down shirt stretched over broad shoulders, Julian casually moved through the aisles with an air of nobility.  His badge, shoulder patch, and collar pins, dominating with gold colors that complemented Julian's warm skin tone, seemed to cast a glow on his face to showcase his dark features.  Reece, in his own uniform at the time, a green and brown ensemble courtesy of the mart, his employer, couldn't even bring himself to approach the fire captain and offer him assistance with finding products.  Instead, Reece ambled about, unable to keep his eyes off of Julian, but coveting him from afar as he roamed and checked on the conditions of the shelves and aisle floors.

That moment, of first laying eyes on Julian, had happened eight weeks ago.  Ever since, Reece's fascination had only escalated, learning Julian's name and discovering they resided in the same Rugged Heights neighborhood.  Julian had even returned to the mart a few times, but Reece still hadn't ever met him.  The closest he came was walking past Julian in one of the aisles and smiling, earning him a nod from the captain, but nothing else, and that had been the extent of their interactions to date.

Reece inhaled a deep breath as he strolled on the sidewalk past Julian's quiet home, moved past it, glanced back once more over his shoulder, then pushed ahead with greater speed toward the park.  Arriving at the pool center, as always, Reece steered clear of the clubhouse and main entrance.  He entered the thicket of trees that surrounded the pool, dividing it from the small parking lot, climbed the tree which had a large branch overhanging the pool fence, and stealthily jumped inside on the concrete deck, barely making a sound.

Reece checked his watch.  Half past midnight, right on time.  He slipped out of his ball cap and clothes, folding and stacking them in a hiding spot against the fence, and then stood at the pool's edge with portions of his feet cantilevered over the calm water.  The moonlight enhanced Reece's milky white skin, attractively adorned with dark freckles, and gave his pale blue eyes an ethereal, almost haunting, countenance.  Reece's dark ginger hair and trimmed beard outlined a classically proportional face and smooth forehead.  He leaped off the edge with grace and hardly made a splash as he fully submerged into the water.

Based on the routine, Reece knew Ian, the park's security guard, would be joining him within minutes.  The two men had been skinny-dipping every other Sunday night for several months now.  It would never lead to anything more, but they both had always known that.  Ian, straight and bored, or straight and curious—or both, if it even mattered—probably liked the clandestine aspect of their encounters the most, too. 

Reece believed it was power that really turned Ian on.  The power to break rules, flaunt confidence, wear a uniform, and carry a weapon.  That power also extended to their personal dynamics, with Ian getting serviced by a gay man, someone who lusted for him in a way that Ian would likely never reciprocate nor understand.  But Ian was not a bad guy.  Reece found him to be a simple one, friendly and kind, though not overly so, while also being fun-loving and enjoyable to be around.  The way Reece saw it, if Ian wanted to experiment a bit and indulge a fantasy or two, nobody got hurt.  Everybody has to find and develop their own pleasures, whatever they may be.

After Reece dove to the bottom of the deep end, then bobbed to the surface, Ian had materialized, seemingly out of nowhere, squatting down near him on the pool edge.  Ian was different, more serious than usual, but Reece recognized his piercing eyes, square jaw, and strong nose.

"Why aren't you getting undressed?" Reece asked him, keeping his voice low to ensure none of the residents in the nearby homes could hear them.

"There was a guy lingering about, like ten minutes ago," Ian said.  "I think he's gone now.  But I'm gonna do another patrol round before getting in the pool."

"Who was it?"

"No idea.  I didn't get a look at his face."

Reece watched Ian, with a determined swagger, leave the pool deck and disappear into the darkness past the entrance gate.  Moments later, from the opposite direction in the park, Reece noticed a thin flashlight beam poking through the trees and the fence.  When the erratic rays struck the water, Reece immediately hoisted himself out of the pool and scrambled toward his clothes.  He hid behind a bend in the wall as he dressed to evade the sweeping beams from finding him.  When a second flashlight came on not far from the gate, aimed not at the pool but at the other person holding a flashlight, the beams were switched off and Reece could hear someone running out of the thicket.

Reece was halfway home when a black SUV pulled up to the curb beside him.  The passenger side window slid down and Ian, the driver, leaned toward him.

"Hop in."

Reece climbed inside and asked, "Did you catch him?"

"Not yet."

"What do you think he wanted?"

"I don't know."

"Let me know what you find."

They arrived at Reece's home.  Instead of pulling beside his driveway Ian turned his SUV around and parked against the opposite curb. 

"Before you go," Ian said, leaning his seat back and unzipping his pants.

"No way," Reece said.

"Why not?"

"In front of my house?  Are you serious, Ian?"

"Everybody's asleep."

"Not everybody.  Go get that guy who tried to spy on us in the park."

"I will, after you have a taste.  I really need to shoot my wad tonight, okay?"

Reece shook his head.  "Maybe that guy back there was trying to find you.  Are you messing around with other guys in this neighborhood besides me?"

Ian dropped his shoulders an inch and slightly exhaled.  "No comment."

Getting out of the SUV and walking toward his front door, Reece had a twinge of regret.  Ian was right, virtually everyone was asleep and they had no expectations of exclusivity whatsoever. 

But giving him head in the streets?  No, sir, not going to happen.  Reece thought it was quite different than fooling around while secretly skinny-dipping together, but he couldn't put his finger on exactly why.

Oh well, he decided, there's no need to overthink it.  Meaningless sex is losing its appeal anyway.

#

Chapter 2

Steven wouldn't take no for an answer.

Sitting in the coffeeshop's courtyard patio, under a canopy blocking out the early afternoon sun, Steven again pleaded his case to the fire captain, Julian, who sat across from him. 

"Let me tell you more about all of the charities the neighborhood fundraising event will be supporting," Steven said.  "This is vital work that will help people and animals in many important ways."

Julian set down his cup of iced coffee and folded his arms across his chest, his biceps bulging from the short sleeves of his uniform.  "I'm familiar with all of the nonprofits and I believe they do make a difference."

"Then you're reconsidering my request?"

"No, not at all."

Steven huffed, but he was not defeated.  The organizer of the annual Rugged Heights charity events, he was accustomed to twisting arms to get what he wanted, often employing the tactics and skills he'd learned from years of work as a financial planner and part-time fine artist.  Under Steven's leadership, by all accounts enthusiastic and devoted, the fundraisers had grown to empower local charities with much needed resources.  Further, Steven kept expenses to a bare minimum to ensure the money raised actually went to the programs, not vendor pocketbooks.  Steven and his team of volunteers operating the events received no financial compensation for their efforts.

"Let's work through this," Steven said, his soft brown eyes widening.  "At the heart of the matter, what's the problem with you participating?"

Julian slightly tilted his head and said, "The stage."

"It's not like you have to strip or anything.  You just stand there, fully dressed.  Don't tell me our esteemed fire captain here is afraid of crowds!"

"No, you don't understand.  As captain, I have boundaries to respect.  I don't need to be calling attention to myself on a stage.  And that's just not my style."

Steven paused to absorb the reply.  He decided on a new tactic in his quest to get Julian to submit to being the star of the bachelor auction.  Steven said, "Oh, I see, you haven't witnessed one of these auctions before.  My mistake.  No wonder you've resisted.  Trust me, they are very tastefully done.  You're not flaunting about, willy nilly, in some theatrical way.  Bachelor auctions succeed because the man being auctioned is genuine, handsome, friendly, confident, kind, and courteous.  Julian, these traits summarize you to a tee, so to speak."

Julian couldn't hold back a smile.  "No."

"I won't give up."

"That's clear."

Steven said, "If you were in my shoes, you wouldn't give up either.  For starters, all of our event promotions specify a strapping firefighter is the sole participant in the bachelor auction.  It's a highlight of the event, usually raising five hundred dollars or so, and letting down our attendees could ruin the whole thing.  If Buck hadn't cancelled on us, the very week of the event, with only days to spare, I wouldn't be here drinking coffee with you and begging on my knees for help.  I have a thousand other things I have to do before Sunday!"

"I'll get one of my firefighters to do it," Julian said.  "One of the rookies."

"There's no time to figure out who else can replace Buck.  You're the one, Julian.  It has to be you.  Plus, and this is essential, the firefighter needs to be a Rugged Heights resident in order to get the most interest from our guests.  I've checked this out already—only you and Buck are fireman who live in the neighborhood."

Julian grunted and leaned his head back, looking up at the canopy and giving the proposal more thought.  Steven's eyes darted around Julian's body and face, and what he saw further confirmed his conviction that Julian would be mighty impressive as their star.  He had a commanding presence with a solid, strong physique.  Julian's musculature added alluring curves that his uniform could not camouflage.  Though self-assured and content, there was a fiery undercurrent to his dark eyes, hinting that he could blaze with vigor in the bedroom or grapple any emergency he would ever be faced with, on or off duty.  Julian also had a tidy hairstyle and trimmed mustache, reminding Steven of the classic images of Latin lovers in old Hollywood movies. 

Sensing the door had finally cracked open, Steven said, "I know you like to be in control.  You can script what we say at the microphone and set all the parameters.  The auction will be just how you want it, down to every detail.  I promise."

"Remind me what the bachelor has to do with the winning bidder," Julian said.

"You will get to control that, too.  Our corporate sponsor offers a range of options you and your winner can choose from.  Dinner and a show.  A sunset cruise on the lake with cocktails.  A night at the movies and a dessert parlor.  An art gallery tour with champagne.  Or you can even select a canoe ride for two, for an afternoon adventure on the river."

"Are you telling me everything?"

"Kissing or sex is not part of the deal and that's in the fine print, in case that eases your mind," Steven said.  "If you and the winner hit it off, there's nothing stopping two adults . . .  But this can all be as innocent as you might want it."

"Ugh.  Honestly, it still sounds dreadful."

"There's no risk to your career.  So, tell me what it will take right now to seal the deal."

"I won't wear my uniform on stage."

"Good!  We have come to an understanding."  Steven jumped from his seat and hugged him.

"I didn't say yes."

"Oh please, Julian, you're doing it."

Steven clapped his hands and cheered as he dashed out of the courtyard patio.

#

Chapter 3

Reece and the other volunteers with roles at the upcoming charity event followed Steven around the site venue—the Rugged Heights neighborhood park—and reviewed the lists of their instructions and duties. 

Reece had expected more chaos, but Steven had the benefit organized so tightly that everything seemed to be well on track for Sunday.  The walk through today was to seal the volunteers' understanding of their responsibilities and extinguish any misconceptions about the event, with enough days to spare in the unlikely event a major problem emerged.

The park acreage meandered and rolled over small dips and inclines, and the terrain was covered with emerald-green grass.  A variety of shade trees were clustered around the park, along the walking and biking paths, the basketball and tennis courts, the swing set and play area, the pool center, and the clubhouse.  The beauty and serenity of the setting encouraged Reece's mind to wander.  He noticed the birds in the trees, the dogs going for walks on leash with their owners, the athletes on the trails, and the small group of people gathered on mats and engaging in late afternoon yoga exercises together.

Lulled into his thoughts, Reece drifted even further away.  Two topics competed for his attention.  One was the  unknown man who had interrupted his pool routine with Ian the previous night.  The second was whether Julian, the fire captain, would be attending the fundraiser.

First, the mysterious stranger with the flashlight.  It had once crossed his mind that maybe it had been Ian himself playing some sort of game.  But Reece recalled the distances on the pool perimeter and remembered when there had briefly been two flashlights on near the pool.  So, it wasn't just Ian.  There was definitely another man there.  Who?  He decided he'd never know.  And what would it matter?  The simple explanation was that Ian was scheduling other guys for hookups on different nights while on duty and one of them, perhaps a jealous one, had come poking around to catch Ian in the act with someone else. 

A jealous adversary, when the encounters meant so little to Reece on anything but a physical level?  No, thank you.  Who needs that melodrama?

Second, Reece asked himself, if Julian attended the charity benefit, would he try to approach him there?  Or would he only try to catch Julian's eye and give him a dumb smile?  Deciding a course of action in advance was next to impossible, but at least he could have some goals.  The truth was, Reece had originally volunteered for an event committee assignment with ulterior motives.  He believed in the charities, certainly, but knowing that Buck was going to be featured in the bachelor auction spurred him to offer Steven his time and talents.  Reece's thinking was that somehow getting to know Buck was the only possible way to crawl onto Julian's radar.  The best Reece could tell, Julian did not have social media accounts, use dating apps, go to bars or clubs, or hang out anywhere else where their paths could eventually cross.  But Julian was Buck's friend and boss.  That was at least a tangible connection that could lead somewhere.  In other words, the neighborhood park, and specifically this charity fundraiser, seemed to be Reece's best hope to put some kind of plan in action so he could pursue something magical with Julian.

Though his plan might seem convoluted to anyone else, to Reece it made sense.  He liked to dream, and dream really big, and though he didn't know how fate worked Reece was fond of believing that positive and assertive energy had the power to lead him in the right direction.

The small group of volunteers followed Steven to the final park location to complete the walk through.  It was just a large patch of grass, part of what was usually set aside for a soccer field, but on Sunday it would hold the stage where all of the event festivities would be centered.  Reece stepped forward.  The stage was his assignment from Steven.  In choosing Reece to be the stage director, Steven had noted Reece's prior experiences with community theater and college drama classes.  However, when awarded the plum assignment, Steven had told Reece that the primary reason for his selection was because Reece was "as cool as a cucumber" and Steven said he needed a tranquil personality to deal with the stage coordination—the most stressful aspect of the event.

It only took them fifteen minutes to finish the planning with the stage.  They reviewed the timeline of the scheduled performances, the logistics of stage access, and the order changes they could make in the event of an unforeseen disruption, among other minute details. 

The bombshell, at least to Reece, slipped out of Steven's mouth when the group was about to depart.

"By the way," Steven said, directing his comment mostly to the volunteer assisting him with the web site, event materials, and press relations, "we have a big change with the bachelor auction.  Buck is out.  Julian, the captain himself, is his replacement.  Get everything updated immediately and pull the best picture of Julian you can find from the internet."

Stunned into silence, Reece wanted to ask more questions of Steven.  But there was no need to confirm it.  Steven couldn't have been clearer.  Suddenly, Julian could possibly be in his grasp—at least they'd be interacting behind the scenes on the stage at the event. 

Reece got that faraway look in his eyes as he stared upward, past the distant trees, and wondered about this twist of fate.

#

Chapter 4

His task now, Julian decided, was to mitigate the damage.

Namely, how could he participate in good faith without embarrassing himself or feeling terribly uncomfortable during the auction experience on the event stage?

The idea that the winning bidder could be an interesting or alluring person never even crossed Julian's mind. 

The fact was, dating anyone had not been a priority for quite some time.  As the adage goes, Julian was married to his job.  Being captain of the fire department was a high-pressure, prominent community position and he gave it his all.  Everything else in Julian's life had to be second.  This reality didn't cause him heartbreak, just mild frustration at times.  There were certainly lonely nights.  Julian missed having someone special to share days off with, not to mention his bedroom.  Further, being captain meant there was an invisible boundary between himself and the firefighters who worked for him.  Long gone were the times when he could join the others for a beer and a night on the town.

Being a gay man, a fact which he never hid or overtly revealed to strangers, he tended to imagine that he would eventually make connections with other guys in unconventional ways.  Julian had no interest in the bar scene or dating apps.  He believed that whether a person was straight, gay, bi, trans, or anything else, he or she was most apt to score a powerful relationship when least expected.  Therefore, it was a waste of time to force anything.  Julian thought he would do just fine letting everything happen naturally.

But at this particular moment Julian had elevated levels of angst.  He had just spent half an hour watching YouTube videos of charity bachelor auctions to get an idea of what would be expected of him on Sunday—and he didn't like what he saw.  There was a whole lot of dancing, jokes, innuendo, and downright silliness.  Yuck and gag, Julian thought, none of that's for me. 

Challenges, though, tended not to faze Julian for long.  There was always another option, another path, and who said he couldn't reinvent the concept of the bachelor auction.  He scribbled down some notes and ideas.  His goal would be to limit his time on stage and flesh out all of the preliminary stuff in various ways throughout the event.  For example, he could have a meet-and-greet session beforehand with interested bidders.  He could insist that the event program include all of his "sales points" so that he wouldn't have to hear anyone trying to sell him in front of a live audience.  There'd be no dancing, no jokes, no innuendo, and no tomfoolery.

As Julian continued pondering his strategy for the auction, he drove to the mall to get some ideas for what he would wear on Sunday.  His captain's uniform would be easiest, but that was out.  He'd rather not blur the lines any more than he had to between his official position and his charity participation.  The key was being presented as a bachelor—an eligible bachelor willing to make another person's dream or fantasy come true—and otherwise just being himself.

Julian tried on some tuxedos at a men's formalwear boutique.  He had to admit they looked pretty sharp, especially the modern ones with the sleeker designs.  But getting any of them fitted in time to his measurements was going to cut it too close.  Also, he realized that a tuxedo provided sophistication for a ballroom setting.  But this was just a stage in a neighborhood park.  A suit, or even just a sport coat, would be more appropriate.

He wandered around the mall and popped in stores to check out ties, cuff links, and especially diving watches, which he liked for the extra large case diameters and masculine appearance made on his wrist.  Julian had several suits at home to choose from, so nothing needed to get fitted.  However, he wasn't excited about wearing any of them for the benefit, and he found no accessories that changed his glum attitude about them.

It was when Julian decided to leave the mall and go home that he finally discovered a spark of inspiration.  One of the stores had a Western shirt hanging at the front of a rack, beside a half mannequin in tight blue jeans.  It was blazing red with a high collar and long sleeves.  It had metallic black buttons down the middle and black accent piping.  Best of all, the shirt had black floral embroidery on the cuffs, which would emphasize his muscular arms, and on the front and back yokes, which would call attention to one of Julian's best physical features—his exceptionally broad shoulders.

Trying it on in the store's fitting room, Julian instantly knew he would buy it.  He admitted to himself that he looked fantastic in red.  The shirt evoked a strong inner power and robust, vibrant energy.  Perfect!  And he already owned the belt, boots, and jeans to make it a winning outfit.

Julian drove home with a smile trying to curl up the outer edges of his lips.  This thing might work out and be some fun, after all.  The shirt might even lure him an amazing guy someday.  Julian started thinking about where else he could wear it once this whole neighborhood event was done.

Who knows, he thought, maybe I really am getting ready to put myself back out there and start meeting people again. 

#

Chapter 5

Reece spent much of the remainder of his day in a haze.

Since learning the astonishing news that his secret crush would be starring in the bachelor auction, he thought about how he could interact with Julian behind the stage.  What could he say to Julian then that would be capable of making a lasting impression?  How about a smoldering look, if he could conjure one up on the spot? 

The more Reece analyzed it the less confident he became that anything he could say or do at the charity event would succeed in expressing himself sufficiently to Julian.  There would be too much going on.  Background distractions, concerns about the comings and goings from the stage, and competition from other people eager to earn Julian's attention, too.

But Reece cautioned himself not to get discouraged.  Some universal force, perhaps, had just presented him with the greatest gift—proximity to Julian—and he must do everything reasonably possible to take advantage of it.  There was a destiny to be fulfilled, he believed, but only if he tenaciously grasped the opportunity with both hands.

Reece slipped into bed that night with notions of bravery on his mind.  Julian had captured his fascination unlike anyone else he could remember, so this was clearly a time for bravery.  Compared to Julian, who risked his life in burning buildings, surely Reece imagined that he could stray out of his own comfort zone—far out of his comfort zone, if need be—to craft a successful pursuit.

Jolted awake in the middle of the night—his digital bedside clock indicated it was just 2:22 a.m.—Reece had clarity.  Forget about devising words or looks near the stage, he realized, that was the lazy way out.  It was crystal clear, instead, that Reece had to be Julian's winning bidder at the auction.  That's the one and only answer.

Propping his pillows behind his back, Reece sat upright in bed.  His room was barely illuminated with faint light that peeped through his window blinds.  The stillness provided some comfort as his brain whirred and buzzed.  The reality was that wealth had eluded Reece, at least so far in life.  He essentially lived paycheck to paycheck, though he did have six months of expenses saved in an emergency fund.  A hard worker, Reece had received promotions and now held the position of assistant manager at the health market.  He was compensated with a fairly generous salary, but he knew he wasn't on track to become rich.  The rent for his modest house in Rugged Heights, which he adored, ate up almost a third of his monthly wages. 

Reece switched on his bedside lamp.  He wondered about the specific amount it would take to triumph in the auction.  Never before considering it, Reece had no idea about the estimated cost.  Two hundred dollars?  Four hundred?  Six hundred even?  More?  He decided to contact Steven, once it was a reasonable hour, to get a feel for the price he could expect to pay on Sunday.

That's when the first wave of sadness washed over him.  Two hundred dollars!  Even that would be a hardship, no question about it, and what about additional costs during their date?  There would be tips and other expenses.  Reece pivoted on his bed so that his feet reached the floor.  He needed to feel grounded.  Should I take out a loan, he asked himself, or rob a bank or print counterfeit bills?  What in the hell could be done in just a few days?

He pondered if he was evaluating the circumstances in the wrong way.  Rather than how much might it cost to win, was the better question how low the price could go if he interfered somehow?

Wrapping a robe over his t-shirt and boxers, Reece drifted down the hallway to his study and flipped on the overhead light.  He plopped down in his desk chair, fired up his computer, and opened a word processing program.  Reece hesitated, staring at the blank screen, solidifying his stance that an idea worth pursuing had emerged, flashing like a red light under his skull.  It was forming, imperfectly, but it held enormous promise.  That is, if the other potential bidders understood the depths of his passion for Julian, then they would fall back and let him be victorious.  Sure, Julian was gorgeous to others, a tantalizing fantasy for anyone, but admiring beauty was a far cry from the super intense yearnings Reece felt for him.  This was a bet, a gamble, that passion would be stronger than money. 

Reece believed it.  Now he had to convince his adversaries.

He typed in the first five words at the top of his letter—"To Whom It May Concern"—and then drew a complete blank.  Reece ran his hands through his disheveled hair and sighed.  Writing a heartfelt letter in the middle of the night was far from ideal, but he had no choice.  There was no time left to spare.  Reece zipped to his kitchen for a can of sparkling water and returned to his study.  He had to press ahead, right now, without delay or excuses. 

Ninety minutes later Reece completed his first draft and printed it on his copy machine.  He snuggled his legs up on his desk chair and slowly read his printed words, trying to imagine the first impressions they would make on a stranger.  Reece didn't hate the letter.  It was his truth.  But, man, was it raw and unsheathed! 

Chuckling, Reece, set the letter down by his screen.  Yes, he wanted authenticity and sincerity.  But no, he didn't need to give anyone a fright.  And what about Julian seeing this?  Yikes!  Well, maybe someday, once Julian was madly in love with him and they could share anything. 

It took Reece less than half an hour to produce a second draft, toning the letter way down and scraping off the rough edges.  He printed and read it carefully, understanding it seemed to at least come from the hand of someone sane and exercising some self-control.  Yep, this second version was better, he decided without hesitation, so he grabbed a pen and added a signature to it.  "With utmost sincerity, Valentino's Secret Admirer." 

The closing pleased him as being slightly clever, at least at 4:14 a.m.  Maybe he'd feel differently seeing it in the light of day, but that was a chance Reece was willing to take.  It was time to post his letter before sunrise, when he might accidentally be witnessed and caught by an early riser looking out of his or her windows into the park.

Reece dug in his closet for a dark hoodie, pants, and shoes.  He also snatched a couple of thumb tacks from his desk drawer and rolled them in tissue paper so they wouldn't pierce his clothes or skin while in his pocket.  He needed to dart into the park, tack the letter to the community notices billboard, and then get back home without drawing any attention to himself.  Reece was so adamant about leaving right away, before the first glimmers of morning light, that he almost forgot his letter.  He dashed to his study, retrieved it, and snuck through the neighborhood, zigzagging to the park. 

There was no sign of Ian, the park's security guard, when Reece arrived in proximity to the clubhouse.  He lingered a bit on the sidewalk, unsure of when Ian's shift ended, just to err on the safe side and not get caught posting it.  In the distance Reece heard a car door shut, prompting him to zoom to the clubhouse and tack up his letter as briskly as he possibly could.  Seconds later he was back on the sidewalk, head down, walking as silently and speedily home as he could. 

Charging back into his house, Reece felt invigorated.  He'd done it!  The letter was posted and the laws of cause and effect would now take over.  Unless, he thought, nobody bothered to read it or someone just tore it down and threw it away.  That wasn't under Reece's control, so he had to let things be, for now.  He stripped out of the dark clothes and tumbled back into his bed, hoping for an hour or two of additional sleep.

Later that morning, after a languid breakfast, Reece showered and dressed in his work attire.  Passing his study in the hallway on the way to his garage, he remembered he had left the printer and computer turned on.  He stepped into the room, turned off the machines, and then tore up the draft of his letter. 

But a glimpse of the word "Valentino"—handwritten and inked in pen—was unmistakable at what had been the bottom of the page.

A sickening feeling in his stomach, like a sucker punch in the gut, walloped Reece. 

"Oh no!"  He tried putting the pieces back to reconstruct the page.  "Tell me I didn't just post the wrong fucking letter!"

#

Chapter 6

Opting for a lighter lunch, mindful that he'd be squeezing into his favorite jeans for Sunday's auction, Julian departed the fire station and drove less than half a mile down the road to the health food mart.  He walked inside the mart and headed directly to the right, to what amounted to a food court.  There were a variety of food stations—for hot meals, salads and cold meals, smoothies and yogurts, deli-style sandwiches, and even one just for pizzas—and customers could build their own plates and pay by the weight. 

Tempted by choices he knew would exceed his goal, which was limiting the meal to just five hundred calories, Julian tried to ignore his grumbling stomach so he could select a wise option.  He found himself drawn to some of the Indian cuisine.  Julian looked for the nearest employee for assistance and happened to spot one approaching him.

"Excuse me, I'd like some help," Julian said to him.

The employee momentarily appeared stunned, as if Julian's voice had just woken him from a severe daydream or trance.  "Absolutely.  How can I be of service?"

The man's voice sounded forced to Julian.  He wondered if the employee was just nervous or stoned out of his mind.  Julian's eyes dropped to his name tag to confirm he was an employee.  "Reece" was engraved on the tag—like the candy but with a "c" instead of an "s"—and Julian considered it might be an Irish name of some kind.  Looking closer at his irises, which were impossibly blue and ghostly, like a pale gemstone, Julian realized this man—Reece—actually had alert eyes.  He figured he was probably a part-time model or artist of some kind, truly attractive, but a bit distant and introverted, rendering him a bit of an enigma compared to the personalities Julian was used to dealing with at the fire department.

"What's the difference between these two curries?" Julian asked, gesturing toward the two options in front of him under the glass shield. 

"They're both yellow curries," Reece said, "soaking over peas and potatoes, but they're slightly different with their particular spices and textures.  Would you like to sample them?"

"Sure."

Reece spooned thimble-sized portions, amounting to about a teaspoon, into tiny plastic cups.  He handed both of them to Julian and smiled.  Something clicked and Julian recalled seeing this smile before, but he couldn't remember where or when.  Reece, he thought, had one of those genuine smiles that could make a person feel tremendous ease.

After sampling both, Julian chose the massaman curry—it had traces of nutmeg and cloves—and Reece offered to prepare his plate.  Julian accepted his assistance and answered an incoming call.

"Steven, I'm just grabbing lunch," Julian said, answering his phone.  "Can I contact you this afternoon or is it something urgent?"

"Well, it's not an emergency, but it will only take a moment," Steven answered.  "I'd really prefer to inform you so you don't end up hearing about it from someone else."

"What's happened?"

"It appears you have at least one fan who will be bidding Sunday."

"I'm grateful to hear this, but why are you calling me about it?"

"One of our volunteers found an anonymous note this morning, full of colorful language, you might say, and it was all about lusting after you."

"Found it where?" Julian asked.  "On the ground somewhere?"

"No, it was tacked up on the clubhouse bulletin board.  It's not there anymore, don't worry about that, but plenty of eyes are still seeing it.  I hope and trust it won't cause you any embarrassment or regrets about starring in our bachelor auction."

Julian temporarily pulled his phone away from his ear, nodding a thank you to Reece, who handed him the prepared lunch in a takeout container.  There was that smile again from Reece and Julian considered formally introducing himself and stopping to talk with Reece some more.  Instead, confused by what he had heard so far during his call, Julian reluctantly walked away toward the checkout counter and continued the phone conversation with Steven.  When Julian glanced back over his shoulder, Reece was still watching him, but, strangely enough, Reece's smile had been replaced with a look of dread or foreboding.

Julian's focus returned to his phone.  "Steven, I don't understand.  If that note is not on the bulletin board, how are people seeing it?"

"This volunteer posted a photograph of it on social media accounts."

"Oh boy."

"Yes, it's taken on a bit of a life of its own," Steven said.  "This wouldn't cause you to consider backing out, would it?"

"I haven't seen it, of course, but I don't imagine some anonymous ramblings are going to affect me in any way.  I despise stuff like that."

"Good to hear!"

When Julian asked Steven to forward a copy of the note to him by text, Steven seemed to demure and backpedal.  He told Julian the best thing was to forget about it and "not make a mountain out of a molehill."

"This is what happens, I guess, when we throw ourselves out to the wolves—the public," Julian said.

Steven said, "Agreed.  Nonsense cannot be completely avoided.  So if anyone else contacts you about this matter today, please don't panic."

"I don't tend to panic."

"That's right.  This is all meaningless stuff in light of the esteemed work you do.  Have a good day, Julian."

"And good day to you.  Thank you for your call."

#

Chapter 7

Peering out the health mart's windows, Reece watched Julian, still on his phone, stroll through the parking lot with his container of lunch and slide into his car. 

Reece felt his errors were compounding.  First, he'd posted the wrong letter—the unpolished first draft—and now, inadvertently, the reaction to the letter just interrupted the only one-on-one moment he'd ever really had with Julian.  He could scream or stomp his feet, figuratively speaking, but instead he vowed to be more careful and make better decisions.

For one thing he couldn't be sure that Steven's call to Julian had been about the secret letter.  But based on the part of the conversation he could hear, Reece assumed that's exactly what the call was about.  It was a warning notification.  Julian hadn't seemed upset, but Reece had only heard the first part of the exchange. 

The especially agonizing part was the interruption.  As Reece walked to the back of the mart to clock out for lunch in the employee lounge, he wondered about what might have been if he and Julian had been able to continue conversing.  Reece had sensed a little something between them, giving him a speck of hope, but he had to shrug and consider that wishful thinking.  Still, damn, the interruption had come at the worst possible time!

Instead of eating right away, Reece sought privacy in the back alley behind the mart.  No one else was back there.  He leaned against the outer wall and sent a text message to Steven, asking him outright how much money bachelor auctions usually make for charity.  Rather than receiving a reply by text, Steven immediately phoned him.

"Reece, we must be thinking alike today," Steven said.  "That auction money might have just blasted away in a poof of smoke, the result of a fire bomb landing on us out of nowhere."

Reece tested out if he could just play along.  "Is it really that bad?"

"Good grief, yes!  I was on pins and needles with the fire captain as it was, really coaxing him into this at the last minute.  He was quite reluctant, to say the least.  But we had to replace Buck, who last year raised five hundred in the auction for nonprofit organizations.  Between you and me, I expected Julian to garner maybe half that.  He's just as handsome, to be sure, but less willing to work the crowd, if you know what I mean.  Anyway, I wouldn't be surprised now if even that money is kissed away.  As our stage director, you'll have to be ready for the real possibility that Julian is going to quit over this internet bullshit."

With some cunning, Reece responded with the appropriate outrage and steered the conversation to determine where he could find the social media post about the letter.  Steven read him some of the comments to the post, which ranged from hilarity to speculation about what might get included in this special date being auctioned off with the fire captain.

"So, besides anticipating Julian's cancellation, what can we do in the meantime?" Reece asked.

"Here's something," Steven answered, "help me figure out who wrote the crush letter.  If this person apologizes to Julian, we'll probably salvage the bachelor auction."

"How do I go about figuring out who it is?"

"Use your noggin, Reece!  You're bright.  It's gotta be one of the residents in our neighborhood.  The news about Julian being Buck's replacement had just broken, so this is someone planning to attend our event Sunday.  He or she had probably been checking the event web site or had heard about Julian being involved secondhand, through word of mouth."

"You suspect one of us volunteers?"

"No, not really.  The person who wrote the anonymous letter would be borderline unhinged.  A disorganized personality.  Someone temperamental and undisciplined.  A real freaking hothead, if you ask me.  In other words, Reece, it would be someone with a personality completely opposite of yours.  Help me think about people who are the most unlike you and we can probably come up with a decent list of suspects." 

#

Chapter 8

Halfway through their six mile jog along the winding foot trails in Rugged Heights, Buck and Julian removed their shirts. 

For both of the firefighters this was about comfort, not vanity.  It was an especially humid evening and their athletic shirts, supposedly designed to wick moisture away from their skin for rapid evaporation, were drenched with sweat.  They continued their sizzling pace and received some relief as twilight seemed to lower the temperatures.  The men reacted differently to the occasional drivers whizzing by and honking their admiration.  Buck usually grinned and gave the drivers a thumbs up gesture, while Julian tended to ignore them, not wanting to encourage anyone into believing he was parading himself about the neighborhood like a peacock.

Like Julian, his boss, Buck was tall, muscular, moderately hairy on his chest and forearms, impressively physically fit, and a resident of Rugged Heights.  The men knew about each other's sexual preferences—Julian being gay, Buck being straight or bi-curious—but rarely discussed anything of a personal nature due to the boundaries of their positions in the fire department.  But they considered each other friends and ran together a few times each week to help each other stay in ideal shape.

Keeping to their routine, they stopped jogging at the library, the end point of the six mile course they had once measured out, and transitioned into a cool down walk while heading home.

"It's frigging sweltering, even with the sun down," Buck said, wiping beads of sweat from his brow.  "I've earned myself a frosted mug of beer and then I've lined up a seriously hot date.  What about you, captain?  Doing anything fun tonight?"

"I'm just fantasizing about an ice cold shower," Julian answered, "then zoning out with a novel or a movie on cable."

"All alone?"

"Yeah, I prefer that."  Julian paused and shrugged.  "Usually, that is."

"You're still sour on dating?"

"Probably, but this whole auction thing has me thinking about putting myself out there again.  We'll see."

"Do it.  You're a catch."

Julian chuckled.  "Here comes a bad fishing analogy with dating.  Whoever you reel in, do you really know what you're pulling into your boat?"

"That analogy truly sucks."  Buck winced and good-naturedly shook his head.  "Sounds like an excuse to me."

"You're probably right."

"Sure, there are weirdos and all that," Buck said, "but tons of good people, too.  Great, sexy, amazing, intriguing people."

"So why'd you pull out of the bachelor auction, resulting in me getting entangled in the mess?"

"I'm going to a funeral Sunday."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear this."

"Life is fragile, captain.  We have to live it up while we can, right?" 

Buck told Julian about a longtime friend who had unexpectedly perished in a rock climbing accident.  They then walked in silence for several minutes until Buck mentioned the charity auction again.

"You haven't mentioned that crazy thirst letter," Buck said, glancing sideways at Julian as they walked. 

"I haven't seen it yet."

"You're in for a treat."

"It's probably an odd prank," Julian said.  "Did you write it as a joke?"

"No, captain."

"Tell me the truth."

"I swear I didn't."

"All right, I believe you."

"Why'd you think I could do it?"

"Well, I mostly keep to myself.  You and Steven are the only ones I know in the neighborhood as anything more than acquaintances."

"Have you and Steven hooked up?" Buck asked, blurting his question out before realizing he'd poked too far.

Julian flashed him a disapproving look.  "No.  Steven and I are barely friends."

"I didn't think so, but had to ask.  Maybe it'll always be an unknown.  A secret admirer who only covets from a hidden distance.  Even if the letter makes you uncomfortable, there's a silver lining.  I think it'll put an extra foot on the bidding scale, if you understand me."

"It crossed my mind that nobody might bid on me.  So tell me more.  I don't follow you about the scale thing."

"Frankly, last year when it was me going up on the block, I had the same worry," Buck said.  "I had a gnawing, growing fear that I was gonna flop up there on the stage and be humiliated.  That's why I tipped the scale in my favor."

"How?"

"Captain, are you sure you want to know?  You may not approve."

"Please tell me.  It'll stay between us."

"I simply leaked word to one of the neighborhood gossips that I'd likely put out if the bid was high enough."

"What!  'Put out' as in sexual favors?"

"Come on, it's not that shocking.  It wasn't a quid pro quo.  No guarantees for sex tricks.  I just let it be known I was open to the idea, if the moon and stars aligned right.  That's not so bad."

"Wow.  And I take it this worked?"

"Yep, the bidding reached five hundred smackers."  Buck laughed and added, "I was worth every penny of it."

Julian grinned, but shook his head.  "No offense, but that's not a tactic that interests me in the slightest."

"That's what I was trying to tell you.  The thirst letter could be doing the heavy lifting for you.  At the very least it's building up some suspense and allure."

"Hmm."

"We're all adults here.  People pay good money and the causes are meaningful and worthwhile.  Everything private is below the water line—your own personal business—and we happen to live in an idyllic neighborhood.  That's how I see it, captain.  What do you think?"

"I think I should've never agreed to be in the farcical auction."

#

Chapter 9

Julian's evening didn't go as planned or expected. 

After running with Buck he decided against a cold shower and relaxation on his couch, instead opting for a productive evening.  He changed from his jogging attire into old work clothes and tackled the tall stack of boxes lined up against the wall in his garage.  Knowing it could be a project lasting a few hours, Julian brought a portable radio and tuned into the adult alternative station that played his favorite songs. 

He hadn't unpacked most of these boxes and they'd been lingering in the garage for years.  Others had holiday ornaments, gardening supplies, sports trophies from his youth, and favorite books.  Julian put on a pair of safety gloves and used box cutters to tear through the packing tape.  The first several boxes were stuffed with shoes, belts, jeans, slacks, shirts, hats, and socks.  He picked out a couple of items he just couldn't part with, even after all this time, but arranged the vast majority of the items into a pile, all of which he'd wash and donate to charity.

The next two boxes he unsealed were nondescript on the outside, but Julian opened them and his spirits rallied.  These boxes held personal treasures and he spent an hour wading through the objects, piece by piece.  He found gold chains and wondered why he had stopped wearing them.  He had always liked the way the chains looked on him for special occasions.  Then he discovered his college ring, the onyx stone still in mint condition, and chastised himself for ever letting it be forgotten.  Julian temporarily slipped it on his finger and it still fit, though slightly tighter than he had remembered.

Realizing it was getting late, he grappled with one more box.  Sure enough, it also contained invaluable mementos, including photo albums with pictures throughout the eras of his life.  Julian thumbed through them and smiled, relieved they had not been destroyed or harmed from their years tucked into his dark garage.  He blew dust off the covers, wiped them clean with a cloth, and hauled them inside for safekeeping, to peruse at his leisure, another day.

Julian still wasn't in the mood to read or watch television.  He took off everything but his boxers, strolled barefoot into his backyard, and sat in the dark.  His breathing slowed, sweat dried from his skin, and his mind cleared of any worries.  Julian felt he had ascended into a meditative state and a rush of happiness flushed over him.  He had a good life and he could expand his horizons whenever he was ready.  Unfettered, he reminded himself that taking time for serenity and bliss—moments like this—needed to become a more frequent part of his routine. 

Once he had lost all track of time, Julian went back inside his house and rinsed off.  He preferred letting his body drip dry, whenever possible, so rather than toweling off he slipped on a pair of loose-fitting sweatpants and fixed himself a cup of caffeine free tea.  Now, having the urge to finally see what was in his secret admirer's letter, Julian turned on his computer, which he kept on a desk in his master bedroom.  It only took him a few minutes scrambling around the web to find it.  He enlarged the screenshot that had been posted on social media, sipped his tea, and read it without any hurry. 

The letter read as follows:

"To Whom It May Concern, I am writing with a heartfelt plea.  I humbly request you hear me out before deciding on whether or not you'll cooperate.  Imagine if you were so hypnotized by another person that you couldn't go an hour during the day without thinking about him.  Imagine breaking into tears, for no reason at all, when you think of him ever being kind to you.  Imagine he might like you, if he ever had an opportunity to peek inside your soul and measure your sincerity.  And please imagine the infinite glory and unparalleled fulfillment this man could provide you, if he ever dared to care for you, caress you, probe inside you.  I don't have to imagine any of this because it is my reality.  There is a man who I absolutely know is the one intended for me.  Admittedly, it began for me as lust, studying the contours of his remarkable physique and breathtaking face.  Now, lust has transitioned into something more profound.  Is this possible, with a stranger, you may ask?  Yes.  I am a testament to this truth.  But this dynamic man, the one of my ambitious dreams, sees right through me, like I don't exist.  How can this magnetic attraction be so one-sided?  I believe with all my heart there's hope, but only if I get a chance to be the center of his attention, even if for just one night.  So that's what I am asking for here.  One night.  I must win Julian, our esteemed fire captain, at the Rugged Heights charity bachelor auction on Sunday in order to give destiny the due it demands.  I am a person of limited means.  I won't be able to outbid generous donors.  Rather than bidding recklessly for something that has little or no meaning to you, I beg of you to refrain from bidding for Julian, at all.  In return I promise you this—when I am in a position to express my benevolence financially, I will do so to make the charities whole, ensuring that nothing is lost by you assisting me on an endeavor that will forever change my life and bring more joy into this sometimes lonely, cruel, and vicious world."

In disbelief, Julian rubbed his neck and his eyes.  This was no joke.  His first reaction was that the author of the letter might be dangerous.  Why hadn't he or she signed a name or given him any indication of identity?  Julian read the letter from start to finish two more times and his assessment began to change.  He intentionally ignored the comments to the post and focused only on the content of the letter. 

One line, one idea, particularly stood out.  "How can this magnetic attraction be so one-sided?"

Julian knew that answer and it had to do with himself, not the person who wrote the letter.  I'm surrounded by walls, Julian thought, that I personally built around myself, for a reason I barely know or understand.  I'm oblivious that I mean anything powerful, like this, to anybody because I have essentially barricaded myself away.

Whatever happens on Sunday, Julian decided, it was well past time that he examine his life with brutal honesty and determine how much longer he wanted to live like this—isolated in his own tower.

#

Chapter 10

Unlike Julian, who on this night had ignored the comments under the social media post, Reece scoured them for crumbs and found no support.  There were too many to read, but the vast majority he saw ridiculed the author of the letter as being "ignorant," "creepy," "insane," "diabolical," and "pathetic."  The most common conclusion of all, hands down, was that he was "a total loser."

These words stung.  Reece flushed with shame.  Even though cloaked by anonymity, he felt fully exposed and humiliated.

His hopes were also dwindling that he could bid any significant amount for Julian at the auction.  Reece had briefly considered dipping into his emergency fund, nearly convincing himself that it would be "an investment" in his future happiness.  But no, he concluded, those savings could never be touched in the absence of a real emergency.  If he was indeed losing his mind, at least Reece knew he had some sanity left. 

Nevertheless, the situation had become quite bleak.  Reece, fully aware his actions had backfired and his plans were withering, wondered if he should give up.  He could turn away and try to forget any of this had happened.  He questioned whether he was as described—pathetic and naive, a complete loser. 

On the other hand, how foolish would it be to take the venomous and angry ravings of strangers on the internet to heart?  They didn't know him.  For all Reece knew they were drunk, stoned, or in throes of their own madness while penning their reactions to his letter.  He understood people would hate him no matter what the letters contained, such is the state of the world today, and hadn't he also used anonymity as a shield?

Reece drew a piping hot bath and soaked in his tub.  A fragrant bath bomb—a sphere of dry oils and baking soda—effervesced in his hands, melting away and blending into the water.  His own troubles could disappear, he hoped, just like that.  He knew he wasn't a quitter.  He could think of something.

By the time Reece emerged from the tub he knew what he had to do.  He dried his body, put on his robe, and went to his study.  He would type out a second letter, which he would also post on the clubhouse bulletin board in the middle of the night, with the foremost goal of ensuring that Julian was not hurt by the fury over the original letter.  It would be an apology.

Reece's letter was finished in mere minutes.  He only had to review it once to know it was just the way he wanted it.  Already, he was beginning to feel better. 

There was still a sliver of hope.

#

Chapter 11

Ian completed a strenuous workout at the gym, ending with squats and curls, his favorite exercises for his rump and arms, and then spent some minutes in the sauna.  As always, it was just too hot in there—he detested anything impairing his breathing—and he wrapped up with a quick shower.  Before leaving his gym locker Ian checked his phone for any missed messages.  The most urgent one seemed to be from Steven, who he called during his drive home.

After a brief exchange of greetings, Steven asked him if he was aware of the "brouhaha going on at the park" and proceeded to tell him about the anonymous letters relating to Sunday's charity benefit.

"What's the big deal?" Ian asked.  "I must be missing something."

"Another note was found this morning," Steven answered, "by the same volunteer who found the first one, and now this one is all over the internet, too.  You ask why it's a big deal and the obvious answer, with due respect, is that the notes are impacting my goddamn event this weekend."

"Impacting it how?"

"For starters, I'm getting requests to cancel the bachelor auction.  I don't have time to explain the impact of this, Ian, but I am hoping you might be able to shed some light on this for me."

"What are you asking me for?"

"The posts have been happening while you're on security duty in the park," Steven said.  "Do you know who posted them?"

"No."

"During your patrols lately have you noticed anyone or anything unusual?"

"Like what?" Ian asked.

"Like anything!  Who's been lurking around in the middle of the night?"

"Sure, there are people in the park, even at night, but that is neither illegal or unusual."

"Would Julian happen to be one of those people?"

"Nah, I don't think so."

Steven pressed Ian for more, even repeating some of his questions, but Ian's answers were the same.  When the call was disconnected Ian considered the level of Steven's tenacity.  Ian became alarmed enough that he phoned Reece to warn him that Steven seemed determined to solve the mystery.

"I appreciate that you want to inform me," Reece said.  "But this suggests that you think I'm the one who posted the letters."

"You deny it?" Ian asked.  "You're hiding it, even from me?"

"Well, I'm not denying or confirming anything.  I just find it curious you made the brash assumption that I am Julian's secret admirer."

"Reece, I have you on tape.  Both times.  Stop pretending."

"Shit!"

"I don't think it's a matter worth raging about," Ian said.

"I had no idea the clubhouse is under surveillance."

"Sure it is—in this day and age everything is—the whole Rugged Heights park, in fact."

"You wouldn't use the tapes against me, Ian, would you?"

"Not a chance.  Your secret is safe with me.  It's not like you committed a crime or harmed the park by simply posting letters on the community bulletin board."

"Thank you, Ian."

"You're welcome.  Apparently, Steven and others are wondering if Julian himself wrote it, to somehow prop himself up and create demand."

"Truly, that's the last thing I ever intended."

"I know."

"Going back to the surveillance tapes in the park, does this mean you know the identity of the guy who interrupted us the other night?" Reece asked.

"Yeah, but I'm not telling anyone that, either."

"Okay."

"We've had some fun, Reece.  But we each have our own lives, you know, and things going on with other people.  The way I see it, you shouldn't worry about anyone else in the park with me on occasion, the same way I'm not concerned about any of this other stuff regarding you that Steven had just called me about." 

"Agreed."

"You understand?"

"Yeah, I completely do."

"I'll root for you to win the fire captain in the auction," Ian said.

"No need to bother.  The money's not adding up.  I don't really have anything to bid."

#

Chapter 12

Upon hearing that his secret admirer had posted a second letter, Julian didn't hesitate this time.  He had been polishing his cowboy boots for Sunday, but set them aside, unfinished, and went out onto his back patio with his computer tablet.  He sat with his legs propped up on a second chair and leaned back to read. 

The letter, shorter this time, went as follows:

"Julian, I fear my professed feelings caused you pain and confusion.  If so, I enormously regret ever posting my original letter.  I would happily soak up every ounce of scorn my actions have caused to protect you from any discomfort.  Therefore, I am writing now to apologize to you.  Further, as much as I yearn to win the bachelor auction, I will remove myself from the bidding process.  This is because I adore you and cannot bear to imagine hurting you.  Nevertheless, please always know that I remain under your spell, admittedly infatuated, still dreaming of earning the opportunity to make a connection with you.  Be well, and please do forgive me."

Like the first one, the letter was unsigned.  Julian only had to read it once to capture everything he needed to know.  First, this was personally addressed directly to him, simultaneously connecting with Julian and distancing him from the backlash.  Second, the person dropped no clues or hints as to his or her identity.  It seemed this person did not want to tease him along on some kind of scavenger hunt.

Julian returned to his pantry to finish polishing his boots.  He felt an acute disappointment and pondered the cause of it.  Am I let down that my secret admirer gave up so easily?  Or had I been anticipating the exhilaration of being desired and fawned over? 

Delving down to the core of the matter, as he tended to do, Julian realized he missed romance and sexual exploration.  Sure, it was all like a wild jungle, fraught with both awe and peril, but why not allow myself to love and be loved? 

Julian examined his boots, shining now and spotless, ready for action, and set them up high on his pantry shelf.  He had planned on doing an hour or so of yard work, though that no longer interested in him.  He suddenly felt like the photo albums he had rediscovered in his garage beckoned him instead.  Julian carried the albums to his living room and sat on the floor with them, so the sun rays from his sliding glass door to his backyard fully illuminated each turned page.  He spent the most time studying the images from his early adulthood.  Photographs with friends.  Smiles and drinks and hugs.  Time with people at sporting events, parties, and ceremonies.  Julian easily recalled the feelings he had when many of the images had been taken.  Several shots were with past boyfriends, some of whom he had once loved, and warmth surged through him.  It was tremendous goodwill to these men who he had spent intimate time with, even though only temporary. 

All of us are alike, Julian thought.  We're seeking meaningful links with each other, pursuing our desires, and building camaraderie.  There's the handling of expectations with new people.  Sometimes these expectations were exceeded, though, more frequently, they fell short.  But that was all part of the process of courtship and experimentation, as natural and necessary as could be, and he knew his character and fortitude had grown and evolved, thanks to his past willingness to open himself up to others.

Why did it all seem so far back in time?  It hadn't been that many years.

#

Chapter 13

Reece's goals at the fundraiser included keeping his chin up, staying focused on the stage, and suppressing his feelings.  He didn't have any tricks up his sleeve for Julian—no last minute "Hail Mary" football pass down to the field's end zone—and it saddened Reece to realize he might do best by trying not to pay much attention to Julian at all. 

Reece understood these were defensive moves.  He didn't like them.  But he didn't know what else to do under the circumstances.

The charity event was laid out in a horseshoe shape in the Rugged Heights park.  The stage, at the back center, directly faced the attendees as they proceeded through the entrance.  On each side of the stage were curved rows of station tents, like bent arms encircling the grassy expanse. 

Reece, holding a clip board with the event schedule, spent most of his time just off stage, behind the curtains, directing the timing of performances and transitions between performers.  He wore fitted pleated slacks and a turquoise button down shirt so rich with color that it enhanced his pale blue eyes.  Glancing around the event during the fleeting moments when he wasn't busy, he observed that Steven, the event organizer, had succeeded in creating a festival-like atmosphere.  Besides stations for food and art and other vendor products for sale, there were places for face painting and games.  Each of the showcased charities had sections where they could interact with guests and discuss their benevolent efforts.  The turnout was tremendous, the afternoon weather was sunny and cooperative, and there was ample evidence the good people of Rugged Heights were committed to improving their neighborhood and community.

Reece was proud to be part of it.  This pride helped offset the pangs of grief caused by occasionally spotting Julian in the distance. 

Julian stood under the fire department's tented booth near the event entrance.  There was another firefighter with him, in uniform, but Julian had on Western attire that included a Dakota cowboy hat, tight blue jeans, a fiery and ornate red shirt, and sleek black cowboy boots.  The first time Reece saw him from afar he gasped and even fought back a flash of panic.  Reece knew he wasn't the only one captivated.  There were more than two dozen people lined up to meet with Julian, taking advantage of an opportunity for potential bidders to personally visit with him in advance of the bachelor auction.

The best Reece could tell, Julian never looked in his direction.  He would've felt invisible, but Reece noticed that many handsome and attractive men were also sizing him up and making eye contact.  Reece wanted to feel prized and he was grateful for the attention, but the fire captain was the only one who made his heart flutter and there was nothing at the moment he could do about that.

To his surprise, Reece observed that one of the men occasionally watching him was Steven.  At first he thought it was only about making sure his stage direction duties were on track.  However, there were some glimpses from Steven that vexed him.  These glimpses didn't appear hostile or prurient.  There were no sparks, good or bad, between himself and Steven, nor had there ever been.  Reece chalked it up to Steven likely wanting to micromanage the event and decided to forget about it.

Ian was there, too.  He made a point of finding Reece behind the stage, giving him a wink and a handshake, while one of Steven's paintings—Steven created acclaimed fine art as a part-time artist—launched the live auction portion of the program.  The large canvas featured two male figures—likely nude but so tastefully done and obscured that nudity was only suggested—swimming after one another underwater.  Unlike the vivid and bright coloration of similar David Hockney works of art, this painting was dark—not menacing, but covert—with only faint glimmers of far away lights illuminating the blue and black tones.

Reece gave Ian an intense look.  "What's the mischievous wink about?"

"You shouldn't have to ask," Ian answered, stepping even closer.

"You're trying to tell me something."

Ian smiled.

"I'm too dense right now to get it," Reece admitted.

"Really?"

"About Steven's painting?  Is that a swimming pool?"

"Think, Reece.  It's obvious, but I won't spell it out for you."

Reece shrugged.  "I don't understand."

"No worries, my friend.  I'm on your side.  That's all I came to say."  Ian playfully punched Reece in the shoulder as he left.

After two more items were live auctioned off to the full crowd of people packed before the stage, including gourmet cooking classes with a French chef and a weekend vacation to the Grand Canyon, it was time for the bachelor auction.

Reece sucked in a deep breath.  Here we go.

#

Chapter 14

Julian walked toward the back of the stage with some confidence.

Meeting his potential bidders, earlier during the event, under the tent at the fire department's booth, several things had become clear to him.  One, everyone had seemed to know about the secret crush letters.  Two, several people had assured him they planned to bid on him.  Three, just as many others, not intending to bid, had stood in line because they wanted to thank him for his leadership in the community with emergency services.

Without exception, everyone Julian had met was friendly and appreciative.  No one questioned him about why he was submitting himself to a bachelor auction, nor chastised him for participating as the fire captain.  So far, this was turning out to be a positive experience for him.  Hopefully, the winner would be a kind and interesting person.  Maybe he could raise a hundred bucks or so for the charities, too.

As the host at the microphone prepared the audience for his arrival, Julian was directed to the side of the stage.  Behind the curtain he was intercepted by an impeccably dressed and handsome man with dark ginger hair.  When the man looked up from his clipboard at Julian, he froze for a moment.  Julian remembered his eyes—those ethereal, soul-piercing eyes—though he again couldn't recall where he had seen the man before.

"Howdy," Julian said, tipping his cowboy hat and shaking his hand.  The man matched his firm grip.  "So what do I do?"

"Once the announcer says your name, stroll out on stage whenever you'd like," Reece answered.

Julian chuckled.  "Should I make them wait a few moments?  Build up some drama?"

"You're going to be a smash.  You don't need any tricks at all."

"Well, thank you.  If only you're right."

"It's the truth." 

The words were spoken with such conviction that Julian felt like pulling him aside and getting his name.  But the host had the audience clapping and was about to introduce Julian's entrance.

Julian said, "I'm trying to place where I met you."

Reece lifted his brows and nudged Julian toward the stage.  "That's your cue.  Good luck."

"Very well."

The cheering escalated when Julian emerged on stage and waved to the crowd.  He strolled directly to the host, gestured for the microphone, and adjusted his hat.

"Folks, good afternoon!  Are you having a fun day?"  Julian paused while the audience hooted and hollered.  "I'd appreciate it if you'd bid high—not for me, but for the nonprofit work being empowered today by your participation at this event—and bid fast, too.  This will all be over in an instant.  It's going to be a lightning round of bidding because I am not gonna dance or jump up and down.  But, if you're the winner, I will show you a good time so you can feel like a king or queen for the day.  Okay?  Let's do it!"

Julian handed the microphone to the auctioneer, who started the bid at a hundred dollars, incorporating a traditional but unique style of rhythmic chanting to engage the audience with urgency.  So many hands flew up that Julian was startled.  He stepped back, grinned, and shook his head, fighting some embarrassment.  Are they pitying me, he asked himself, because of what happened this week?  Or do these people actually think I'm worthy of this?

Bidding climbed past three hundred dollars, four hundred dollars, five hundred dollars.  When the auctioneer reached the eight hundred mark there were still three competitors raising their hands.  One of them dropped out when it reached a thousand dollars.  Julian put his hand over his heart and his jaw dropped, eliciting clapping from the audience. 

A man and a woman were the final bidders, inching up the increments in small amounts, and neither seemed ready to drop out.  The woman bidder signaled for Steven, who was standing near the stage.  He raced to her and she whispered in his ear.  When the male bidder petered out at the eleven hundred mark, the auctioneer began to call it.  "Going once . . ."  Julian looked around at the audience, then to the side of the stage, and no one was there. 

"Going twice . . .  Sold to the lady, for eleven hundred dollars!"

The winning bidder followed Steven onto the stage.  She was petite with wavy blond hair, holding an infant and wearing a wedding ring.  Steven introduced her as "Theresa" and handed her the microphone.

"Yeah, I won!" Theresa said.  "As much as I'd love to have some hours with this hunk—our very own fire captain—I want this experience with Julian for someone else.  We've all read the special admiration letters this week.  You know what I'm talking about and nothing more needs to be said.  They moved me.  They really did.  To the person who wrote them, I ask you to please step forward now so this prize can be yours."

Everyone looked around from side to side, including Julian.  No one was emerging and the man who had been on the side of the stage was still missing.

Theresa waited several more seconds before continuing.  "Shoot, that's too bad.  We tried!  I have no regrets.  In fact, I have a wonderful idea.  Rather than just picking someone for the date with the fire captain, let's have Julian get to pick whoever he wants."  The audience cheered her on.  "The guys never get a say!  Well, today is different.  The captain will get to pick his own date this time."

Theresa and Julian embraced and left the stage together.

"Brilliant," Julian said to her as they descended the steps.

"Please do enjoy yourself," Theresa replied, beaming a smile and touching him on the forearm.

"I promise I will."

#

Chapter 15

In the end, Reece couldn't bear to watch the auction.  He had darted from the stage area to one of the vendor booths selling snow cones, purchased one with blue and red syrups mixed together, and let the sweet ice flakes melt in his mouth as he wandered around the park.  He continued tuning everything out until he ambled back to the stage just in time to see Julian, looking better than ever, walking down the steps with the woman who had won the bidding for him.

Reece hadn't intended to flee.  But it'd been harder standing beside Julian on the side of the stage than he had imagined.  Competing emotions erupted at the time, on one hand feeling like confessing his feelings, as opposed to throwing himself at Julian's feet and pleading for forgiveness for putting him through any embarrassment with his letters.

After the event concluded, long after Julian and the attendees had all departed, Reece and the other volunteers stayed in the park to clean up.  Reece listened as the other volunteers discussed the success of the event and the unexpected developments with the bachelor auction.  He wondered if he had been paying attention at the time if he would've been brave enough to rise up when Theresa called out for the author of the letters to be revealed.  But then he was relieved that hadn't happened after all. 

This whole time Reece had been thinking about what he needed, not what Julian wanted, and that triggered an epiphany.  In that second it occurred to him that any victory on the auction stage would be hollow if Julian instead had his sites set on someone else.

Reece trudged on, picking up trash from the grass and tossing it into the plastic garbage cans.  His back was sticky with sweat by the time he sat on one of the park benches half an hour later for a brief rest.  Steven joined Reece on the bench, thanked him for his volunteer service, and declared the event a wonderful triumph on every level.

"It all worked out as it was supposed to," Steven said.  "I wasted too much time this week trying to determine who wrote the letters.  The final word is—it didn't matter."

"Maybe all of your future auctions should be flipped upside down," Reece replied.  "Letting the guys themselves, like Julian, get to decide who they date."

"No, that wouldn't work with getting the highest bids.  It happened today, but this was an exception."

Reece tried to sound nonchalant when he asked, "Did Julian pick somebody?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

"I don't know.  I asked him afterward if he had someone in mind for his date and he said he did."

"Which activity did he select?" Reece asked.

"The canoe trip, believe it or not," Steven answered, then laughed.  "I think that man needs some help in the romance department."

"I bet we all do."

Steven titled his head.  "What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing, really.  It's just that all this dating and courting and hooking up stuff is hard, for almost everyone."

"I guess so.  Can I count on you to be stage director again next year, Reece?"

"Sure thing."

Steven patted him on the shoulder, stood up, stretched, and walked away.  Reece rose to his feet, too, and resumed clean up duties with the other volunteers. 

It was dusk before the end was in sight.  Exhausted, Reece had peeled off his shirt and removed his shoes and socks.  He moved at about half speed, though eager to finish the work, and contemplated whether he had enough energy to even eat dinner once he was done here and could go home.  Coming up on some shards of broken glass behind the dismantled stage, he bent down to carefully pick up the pieces.  Just as he had the last chunk in his palm, Reece felt a tender hand on his back.  Peering over his shoulder, the first thing he noticed was the fire captain's uniform.  Reece sprang to his feet to face him.

Julian locked eyes with Reece for a few seconds before he spoke.  "Excuse me.  Did I startle you?"

"Yes, honestly, I thought you were long gone."

"I came back.  I'm on my way to the station for a few hours.  But there's something I needed and I noticed a few of you were still here in the park tearing down the event, so I dropped by."

Reece slid the glass into the garbage can and wiped his hands on his slacks.  An idea was dawning on him, gaining strength, and he couldn't help but grin.  "How can I help you?"

"I'm trying to find that guy," Julian said, squinting at him.  "The one with the red-hot emotions.  The one who is convinced he knows what he wants.  He seems to think that what he wants—is me."

"Oh, that guy."  Reece's eyes began to sparkle.

"Yeah, I have a pretty good hunch that you might be able to guide me in the right direction.  Am I right?"

"Absolutely."

#

Chapter 16

Two Weeks Later

By the time of their canoe float trip, exactly two weeks after the charity event in Rugged Heights, Julian and Reece had met for lunch several times.  These dates, lasting between an hour and ninety minutes, had sailed by quickly, thanks to easy conversation and an immediate rapport.  They had listened to one another instead of quizzing each another.  There had been no discussion of the letters or the auction.  The lunches always seemed to end too soon and they had become ever more comfortable in each other's presence.

The outdoor entertainment rental company dropped Julian and Reece off at Old Miner's Bridge, which was the starting point for their three hour float trip on the Viola River.  Julian had selected a streamlined canoe for the two of them, sixteen feet in length, teal green and in new condition, along with sturdy paddles with eye-catching blends of light and dark hardwoods.  For safety they had floatation cushions, sporty life vests, and a first aid kit.  Each man had brought a small cooler.  Julian, in charge of the beverages, had filled his with iced cans of plain and sparkling water, sugar free Red Bulls, and light beer.  Reece's cooler was packed with chilled foods from the health market, including hummus wraps, Greek yogurts, fresh fruit parfaits, kettle chips, and dark chocolate.

The partly cloudy afternoon toyed with the light and shadows on the arched, gothic-like bridge.  Though it was no longer in use, and had been in disrepair for decades, the bridge's magnificence was still clearly evident.  Birds lined the parapets and the deep water seemed to come to a standstill under its foundations.  Both men lathered on SPF 50 sunscreen and put on ball caps and sunglasses before loading their canoe on the river's shore.  Julian wore navy coaches shorts, a maroon athletic shirt, and frayed old sneakers.  Reece had opted for tan Bermuda shorts, a powder blue polo shirt, and waterproof sandals. 

"I like your ring," Reece said, noticing Julian's hand as they pushed the canoe into the water.  "Is that an onyx stone?"

"Yeah, it's my college ring," Julian answered.  "I found it a few weeks ago, packed away in a box in my garage, and decided it needed to see the light of day again."

Reece, having more experience on the river, took the stern seat in the canoe for the first leg of their trip after watching Julian's muscular, tanned legs maneuver into the bow at the front. 

"Ah, what a fantastic day," Julian said, laying the paddle horizontally across his lap.  "Let's stretch it out as long as we can."

Reece agreed, though he imagined the afternoon would be even better if they pulled up onto a sandbar so he could jump Julian's bones and smother him with kisses.  Reece kept his paddle in the water, angling it to keep them moving mostly straight ahead on pace with the river's current.  During the next hour they pointed out sights along the shore to each other, ranging from animals to unusual trees, and occasionally glided by secluded river houses that were mostly hidden behind foliage. 

Reece leaned forward and gently poked Julian in the back with his wet paddle. 

Julian pivoted on his seat cushion to look backwards and grinned.  "Yes, sir?"

"I'm a 'sir' now?" Reece asked, chuckling and threatening to poke him again.

"Damn right.  Or do you prefer the word stud?"

"Call me anything you want.  As long as you're smiling when you say it, then I'm happy."

"That's why you prodded me with your paddle?" Julian asked.  "Just to see my smile?"

"I confess that's true, though I'm not complaining about my view."

"Your view?"

"I'm facing unbelievable shoulders and your broad back, narrow waist, brawny butt cheeks . . .  I mean, I'm overheating back here, to tell you the truth."

Julian took off his sunglasses and gave Reece a sly look.  "I love hearing this."

"Good, because I don't wanna hide it."

"Horny on the river, huh?"

"Yep, that's one of the emotions going on with me," Reece said, dropping his free hand in front of his crotch.  "Don't look too close back here or you might get an eyeful, too."

Julian turned around more, now sideways in his seat.  "Fair's fair.  But you seem to be trying to block my view."

"I can't really move my hand, Julian."

"You're hard?"

"About as stiff as this paddle." 

"Prove it."

Reece's first reaction was to laugh and keep his hand in place.  But why not show him, he thought, and with only a fleeting hesitation Reece lifted his hand and leaned back.  His impressive erection bulged shamelessly under his shorts, straining the fabric as it curved upward and to the left, all the way close to his side pocket. 

"Whoa!" Julian said.  "That monster's real, my friend?"

Reece answered him with a twitch, his bulge appearing to inhale a breath and grow even fatter.

Julian said, "Just when I thought this day couldn't get any better . . ."

Reece immediately sat upright, however, noticing their canoe was off track, moving diagonally toward a bend.  The river, now shallower and clearer, rushed over smooth and colorful rocks exposed by the sun's rays.  Both men vigorously paddled to straighten the craft and avoid crashing into the large trees lining the shore.  With less than a foot to spare, they succeeded in the nick of time, as the infamous Viola Falls—the river's largest rapids—lurked just ahead past the bend.  Misjudging the direction for easiest passage, their canoe struck one of the largest rocks, twisting the canoe around and taking on gallons of water, and they ended up descending the Falls backward. 

"Awesome!" Julian hollered, as they aimed toward the sandbar just below the rapids.  "Doing it backwards is a first for me."

"We came close to wiping out," Reece said, "but at least we stayed afloat."

"Let's do it again!"

They emptied the canoe, flipped it to dump out the accumulated river water, repacked it, then carried it back up the shore.  The second time over Viola Falls they navigated perfectly and enjoyed the rigorous bouncing over the cascading waves.

"Smooth sailing," Reece said, as they passed the final protruding rock.  "All clear."

"Once we were in sync with our movements, it was a breeze," Julian added.  "We were unstoppable."

They decided to float another quarter mile down and stop to eat.  Julian chose a lush and private spot, just past a fork in the river around a gravel island, fully isolated from any other boaters who might happen to coast by.  Lifting the canoe out of the water and setting it on the bank, they laid it on it's side as a leisurely backrest and sat on the floatation cushions.  They ate and drank in peaceful silence, sitting hip to hip, shoulders touching and legs pressed together.  When finished, they stretched further back, reclining against the shiny hull.  Julian rested his hand on Reece's thigh and closed his eyes. 

Reece turned his head toward him and spoke in a hushed tone of voice.  "Two weeks ago, how did you know it was me, Julian?"

Julian, keeping his eyes closed, offered no response.

"Are you asleep?" Reece asked.

Julian's voice was low and calm.  "No."

"Will you tell me?  I'll always be curious if you don't."

Julian opened his eyes and held Reece's hand.  "I didn't figure it out at the benefit.  After I had gone home I was thinking about who I might want to invite—on the date that I suddenly was in control of—and you know what?  A recurring image flashed in my mind.  The image was of you, Reece—behind the curtain, on the side of the stage, peering at me with those, like, multidimensional eyes of yours.  That got me wondering about you, that restrained expression that was so enigmatic, and it occurred to me that you might be the one."

Reece squeezed his hand.  "That was your only clue?"

"Yes."

"It may have been a lucky guess."

"I'd been thinking lately about myself, specifically about dating again.  Mixed in with that were ideas about opposites attracting—hot and cold—and how easy it was to have misunderstandings.  For example, evaluating myself, I was coming to grips with how I could be extraverted and passionate about other areas of my life, but stone cold when it came to pursuing romance and intimacy.  So it was easier for me to consider someone like you, seemingly shy and introspective, harboring torrid longing behind a cool and collected demeanor."

Reece squeezed his hand again and repeated the words, "Hot and cold, huh?"

Julian pulled his hand away and slid his fingers along the soft skin on Reece's forearm.  "I adore your freckles."

Reece smiled from the compliment, but even more from relief.  By changing the subject, Julian effectively put to rest any further analysis on the circumstances of them coming together.  Now connected—their goodwill and attraction to one another obvious and undeniable—the focus could be on whatever the future had in store for them, not what happened in the past.

Julian turned his face completely toward Reece.  The tips of their noses touched and they kissed, slowly and intensely.  They pressed together and also used their hands to explore each other's bodies.  Reece discovered that Julian's nipples were incredibly sensitive, and twirling them between his thumbs and index fingers caused him to moan.  Julian held Reece's head as he kissed him, caressing his neck and ears.

After a lengthy embrace, they broke apart.  Their shorts were unbuttoned and their shirts were bedraggled, but they had managed to keep their clothes on.  Laying side by side, propped against the canoe's hull, Julian traced his fingertips along the fabric above Reece's erection and watched him twitch and squirm.  In turn, Reece fondled Julian's chest.

"Let's use all of our willpower," Julian said, "and not bang each other silly today.  Not here.  Not right now."

"I can wait," Reece said, before nuzzling Julian's neck, basking in his sweet musky scent.

"I don't want this to be just about sex between us.  What about you?"

Reece lifted his head from Julian's neck, kissed his chin, and stared into his eyes.  "You already know my feelings, Julian.  Everything I wrote to you remains completely true."

#

Author's Note

Thank you for reading "Scorching the Neighborhood."  If you enjoyed it please leave a review and consider my other books.

This is the sixth story in the Men of Rugged Heights series, featuring a range of recurring characters exploring and developing their intimacy and sexuality.  Additional books in the series include the following:

Serving the Neighborhood.  Mike, the good-looking straight guy next door, does not expect to have his desires challenged.  A successful business owner, but lonely and widowed at thirty, Mike occupies his time playing sports, drinking bourbon, reading spy novels, and watching classic movies.  Colton, a mysterious stranger, is capturing the sexual fascination of Mike's friends.  New to the suburban neighborhood, Colton is taking a break from modeling and tempting other men with exploits, no strings attached.  On the prowl, Colton makes it clear his sights are targeted on Mike.  When Mike discovers the opportunity to test his boundaries, how far will he yield to another man's touch?

Patrolling the Neighborhood.  Vance, a confident young police officer, naturally commands respect.  He is comfortable being in control of all aspects of his life.  But Vance's love life has suffered from repeated crash endings.  He now challenges himself to explore new impulses, including his sometimes intense attractions to other virile men. 

Daring the Neighborhood.  Neighborhood men getting together for a game of night basketball expect just another friendly competition.  Nude modeling is the furthest thing from their minds.  But amidst all of the bravado and trash talking, one player proposes raising the stakes.  His dare is simple.  The winning team splits a cooler full of beer, while the losing teammates pose in the buff for his "Masculinity and Tenderness" fine art painting series.

Prowling the Neighborhood.  A mystery man is anonymously hooking up with the neighborhood's hot new security guard while he's on duty.  Vance, a young cop, is lured by a friend to help discover the secret man's identity.  But all the spying, prowling, and hiding could lead to trouble.  Or it could lead to a unique opportunity for Vance to further explore his own avid desires.

Welcoming the Neighborhood.  Who will be the last hunk to leave the housewarming party?  Darryl, enjoying success in his career, just purchased a magnificent home in Rugged Heights. But he's new to town and eager for companionship.  Darryl has casually begun playing night basketball with some guys in his neighborhood. He is captivated by these stunning men and desperately wants to get to know them better.  Acting on a tip from a lonely hearts article on a gay web site, Darryl decides to host a housewarming party and invite his neighbors. Though worried no one will show up, he's advised to stay positive and take particular note of the last guy to leave his party.  That's the one, as the adage goes, who holds the promise to a new beginning.

For updates on new releases and book specials, please join my mailing list at JaylenFlorian.com.

Best wishes, and I appreciate your support,

Jaylen