Vivien Dean What The Heart Thinks

HAT

EART

HINKS

…Amidst fifteen giggling women stood a man in buckskins and a

coon skin cap, with a plastic rifle thrown over his shoulder and the
biggest, most beautiful Colgate smile Joe had ever seen outside of a
dental commercial. Blue eyes, dimples, and a fall of blond curls
slipping from beneath his hat to flop across his forehead completed the
package. His clothes were too baggy to tell, but the body was probably
perfect, too. He was a stripper, wasn’t he? That was practically a job
requirement.

“Not that I don’t appreciate such a hearty welcome,” Mr. Perfect

said. “But I can’t get the party started for real until I talk to someone
named Stacy.”

More than one helpful wannabe turned and pointed toward the

kitchen. Joe ducked back out of sight before he was spotted, retreating
to the farthest corner as he prayed fervently for a hole to open up in
the floor so he could disappear for real.

Stacy shot him one last apologetic glance, but as she started to step

out to intercept the stripper, he showed up and blocked the doorway.

“Hi,” he said. “A whole bunch of little birdies say you’re Stacy.”
“That’s me. You’re the guy from That’s Strippertainment?”
“Yep.” He touched his finger to his cap, the very model of

politeness. “They call me Davy Cockett, ma’am.”

Joe barked in amused disbelief, then quickly covered his mouth

and ducked his head to stifle the sound.

“Cute,” Stacy commented. “What do you need from me to get the

show going?”

“Some way to play my music. You got someplace I can dock this

that’ll give me some decent sound? I like for everyone to be able to
feel the beat, if you know what I mean.”

Could this guy get any cheesier?…

LSO

IVIEN

EAN

Aria Of The Eclipse

Blood Of Souls

Born To Be Wild

Boundless

Bridge Over Troubled Water

Catch/Caught

Crave

Family Obligations

Interlude

Iron Eyes

Moon-Touched

Ruby Red Rebels

Still, Life

The Hearts Of Yesteryear

The Low Between

The Unbeaten Track

Threshold

What We May Be

The “Wranglers” Series

Boys Of The Zodiac

Aries: Riddle Me Wicked

Cancer: Penny Candles

Capricorn: Forgotten Faces

Libra: Outlined In Ink

WHAT THE

HEART THINKS

VIVIEN DEAN

MBER

UILL

RESS

LLC

http://www.AmberQuill.com

HAT

EART

HINKS

MBER

UILL

RESS

OOK

This book is a work of fiction.

All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the

author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously.

Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales,

or events is entirely coincidental.

Amber Quill Press, LLC

http://www.AmberQuill.com

No portion of this book may be transmitted or

reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in

writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief

excerpts used for the purposes of review.

ISBN 978-1-61124-590-5

PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

CHAPTER 1

With half a dozen paper leis around his neck, Miley Cyrus

blasting from the speakers, and enough estrogen in the tiny
apartment to keep the Golden Girls out of menopause until well
into their nineties, Joe Salinas decided only one thing could make
this night even more of a disaster.

“Stripper’s here!”
That was it.
At least four girls rushed to the door, leaving him alone in the

kitchen with Stacy, his best friend and the bride’s maid of honor.
She was also the only reason he had agreed to come at all, though
she’d couched it under the pretense of helping her set up the stereo
equipment and decorate. Joe should’ve been done and out the door
before the first guest arrived, but there was no way he could let the

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

crap she called her speakers be the center of their musical world
for the night. Bachelorette parties were supposed to be memorable,
and he actually liked the bride, so he’d made a quick run over to
his place to pick up his gear to use instead.

Unfortunately, that meant he was still in the apartment when

the guests started arriving, at which point nobody would let him
leave.

“You’re practically one of us,” came from one of the other

bridesmaids.

“Just with a penis,” someone with the most unfortunate orange

streaks he’d ever seen chimed in.

“It’s a party,” the bride had said, hooking her arm through his.

“Everybody loves a party.”

Everybody, that was, but Joe. He didn’t know half these

women, though that didn’t seem to stop any of them from seeking
him out to pick his brain about men. “Do I look like I’m a boy
magnet?” he wanted to snap. But of course, he didn’t, because that
would mean speaking his mind and he only ever did that to Stacy
and when he was on the air.

Stacy looked at him in sympathy. “You can hide in here while

the stripper’s on,” she said. “Nobody will even notice you’re not
around.”

Joe winced. “Thanks.”
“You know what I mean.”
A burst of laughter came from the living room, prompting

Stacy to twist and peer out. Her button nose wrinkled. “Oh, my
God.”

“What is it?” Joe asked.
“You don’t want to know.”
She was right, but she also wasn’t looking away. Curiosity got

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

the better of Joe and he edged closer to peer around Stacy’s
shoulder.

“Oh, my God,” he muttered.
Amidst fifteen giggling women stood a man in buckskins and a

coon skin cap, with a plastic rifle thrown over his shoulder and the
biggest, most beautiful Colgate smile Joe had ever seen outside of
a dental commercial. Blue eyes, dimples, and a fall of blond curls
slipping from beneath his hat to flop across his forehead completed
the package. His clothes were too baggy to tell, but the body was
probably perfect, too. He was a stripper, wasn’t he? That was
practically a job requirement.

“Not that I don’t appreciate such a hearty welcome,” Mr.

Perfect said. “But I can’t get the party started for real until I talk to
someone named Stacy.”

More than one helpful wannabe turned and pointed toward the

kitchen. Joe ducked back out of sight before he was spotted,
retreating to the farthest corner as he prayed fervently for a hole to
open up in the floor so he could disappear for real.

Stacy shot him one last apologetic glance, but as she started to

step out to intercept the stripper, he showed up and blocked the
doorway.

“Hi,” he said. “A whole bunch of little birdies say you’re

Stacy.”

“That’s me. You’re the guy from That’s Strippertainment?”
“Yep.” He touched his finger to his cap, the very model of

politeness. “They call me Davy Cockett, ma’am.”

Joe barked in amused disbelief, then quickly covered his mouth

and ducked his head to stifle the sound.

“Cute,” Stacy commented. “What do you need from me to get

the show going?”

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

“Some way to play my music. You got someplace I can dock

this that’ll give me some decent sound? I like for everyone to be
able to feel the beat, if you know what I mean.”

Could this guy get any cheesier? At least Joe was going to have

plenty to talk about tonight—wait, King of the Wild Frontier here
was looking for a sound system. That meant only one thing.

“You need our resident genius, then.”
Joe looked up in time to come face-to-face with the model of

his future mockery. Right now, though, he had to settle for his
cheeks erupting in embarrassment.

“That you, dude?” The stripper held out an iPhone in a

woodgrain case. “Just plug me in, and I’ll be good to go.”

Joe plucked the phone from his fingers before the heady scent

of his cologne—no wonder the girls were going crazy when he
walked in, he smelled as mouthwatering as he looked—reduced
Joe to a walking hard-on. “Sure thing. Give me five minutes.”

As he brushed past the stripper, grateful at least that he was

going to be in the outer room and could make a better getaway, he
heard a distinct, “Holy shit.”

That didn’t stop him. Neither did the second set of expletives.
It was the, “You’re Joe Salinas,” that did the trick.
Joe swiveled around and stared at the stripper. The Colgate

smile was gone, the square jaw slack, blue eyes now wide with
amazement. “I’m sorry,” Joe said. “Do I know you?”

It took a moment for his question to sink in. The stripper

blinked once, then shook his head as if coming out of a stupor.
“Shit, no. I listen to your show. Every night. Well, almost every
night. When I can’t listen to you live, I stream it the next day. I
wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

His earlier embarrassment changed hues, from being seen to

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

being recognized. That never happened. First of all, his midnight
radio program broadcast out of one of the smallest stations in
Chicago, one specifically aimed at the gay community. Second, the
music he played wasn’t the bubblegum crap that inundated the
charts. He focused on local bands looking for airtime, anybody
with a fresh voice or a message to be heard. Third, he never talked
to anyone he didn’t know if he could help it. When he wasn’t at the
radio station, he was usually buried in research and classes for his
doctorate in bioethics from Loyola.

Besides, he had a tendency to blend in most of the time. Where

the stripper would’ve stepped into the Bradley Cooper role of The
Hangover, Joe more closely resembled the funny, furry guy.
Except taller. And a little less hairy. And only amusing when he
was hiding behind a microphone.

The stripper took his continued silence as permission to keep

talking. “Of course, you’re the resident genius here. You’re, like,
the smartest guy I’ve ever heard. What’re you doing at a
bachelorette party?”

“I’ve been asking myself that all night,” Joe said dryly.
The stripper laughed. “I guess it doesn’t matter if it means I got

the chance to meet you. I mean, seriously, dude, you have no idea
what a treat this is.” He stuck his hand out. “I’m Fess Kedley, by
the way.”

He took the guy’s offering, but his brain had tripped over the

name. “Fess? Is that another stage name?”

“Nah, that’s having a mom with an unhealthy obsession.” With

a grin, he tugged at the tail on his cap. “But it did help coming up
with a gimmick.”

Joe’s sweaty palm reminded him of his mission. He didn’t need

to short out the guy’s phone on top of looking like a fool because

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

he felt like a yeti standing next to him. And he wasn’t even the one
wearing all the fur.

“I better get this set up for you,” he said, backing up toward the

door.

“Are you going to watch the show?”
In that moment, the very last thing he should’ve done was

looked at Fess’s crotch and thought about the striptease to come. It
was rude, out of place, and completely not his style.

It was also impossible to stop the impulse. Because in spite of

everything else, Fess was still the model of male beauty, buckskins
or not.

Without a word, he whirled on his heel and bolted for the

stereo equipment in the corner. He hadn’t been blushing before.
That had been nothing compared to the inferno currently scorching
his cheeks.

As soon as the music started, he was out the door, ignoring

Stacy’s frown, the tilt of Fess’s head as his gaze followed him out,
and his own loathing for his personal cowardice.

* * *

“So the next time you’re sitting around on a Saturday night,

wondering why nobody is around on Facebook for you to brag to
about beating Candy Crush, think about heading downtown so you
can hear these guys play. Don’t let the fact that they look like they
stepped out of an episode of Love Boat throw you off. These guys
will bring the house down and then stick around afterward to help
you build it back up again. Trust me.”

The commercial music began playing beneath his outro, cuing

Joe to wrap it up for the top of the hour break. He rattled through

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

his call sign tags, then collapsed back in his chair once the on-air
sign went off. The night was not one of his best, though at least
he’d been smart enough not to get drunk before coming in to the
station. He was relying too much on the music to carry the hours
through, because every time his mouth opened to work, memories
of Fess and the damn bachelorette party kept getting in the way.

A tap on the glass forced him to open his eyes and squint at

Carlos, the night manager, on the other side. “What?”

“Phone call.”
With a frown, Joe glanced at the line box, and sure enough,

there was the red light blinking. “Who is it?”

“A listener.”
“And I’m a call-in show since when? Wait, survey says…” He

made a buzzing noise. “Never.”

Carlos shrugged. “He says he knows you.”
“He could say he was the Pope and you’d believe him.”
“Hey, that could happen. He likes us now, remember?”
Joe rolled his eyes. “You know the drill. I’m not taking it.”
He refused to look at Carlos again as he got back on the phone,

but fifteen seconds later, another tap came at the glass.

“Do I need to go sit on the toilet to get you to leave me alone

until I go back on?” Joe complained.

“He asked me to give you his name.”
“I have one, thank you.”
“He said he’s Fess Kedley. The Davy Crockett guy you met

tonight.”

Joe sat up. Too quickly as it turned out because the wheels on

the chair slipped off the mat and tilted the entire chair sideways to
drop him onto the floor. When he popped his head back up, Carlos
had gone on his tiptoes to peer down at him, a concerned frown on

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

his face.

“You okay?”
“I’m fine.” Fess had called the show? It had to be him, even

though Carlos had messed up the name. Why would Fess do that?
If he listened half as much as he claimed to, he would know Joe
didn’t take requests or banter with listeners. He didn’t care about
the former and the idea of the latter gave him hives. “How long has
he been waiting?”

“Just since you signed off. He called as soon as the break music

cued up.”

So he’d chosen a time when he knew Joe wasn’t on the air. He

wanted to talk to him, not be a part of the show. Joe didn’t know if
that was better or worse, but somehow, he got the impression Fess
wouldn’t give up until he’d actually gotten through.

“All right,” he said, pulling himself back up. “I’ve got it.”
His hand shook as he took Fess off hold. The only saving grace

to this was at least he didn’t have to look the man in the perfect
face as they talked.

“You are very persistent,” he said in lieu of a greeting.
“And you didn’t stick around so we could talk after my act,”

Fess said. “Why’d you skip out?”

“Because it was a room full of horny women who would have

blowjobs on the brain. I wasn’t in the mood to give out advice on
the best technique.”

“So you’re an expert on oral sex, too? Good to know.”
Outside the window, Carlos snorted. Joe flipped him off before

turning his back on the glass. This was his mistake for bringing up
blowjobs, though why that had slipped out, he had no idea. “I don’t
really have long to talk. I have to be back on the air soon.”

“Then how about we meet up after your show? You name the

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

place. We can talk then.”

“I don’t get out until five.”
“Then it’ll be a breakfast date. Come on, you can’t say no.

Breakfast’s the most important meal of the day.”

A date? Davy Cockett wanted a date? With Joe? Surely, Evil

Captain Kirk was going to walk in any minute because Joe had
obviously landed in some bizarro world where this kind of
proposition could even be a possibility.

“Don’t you need to sleep?” he tried.
“Nope. No auditions tomorrow. I told you. I listen to your show

as often I as can. Oh, shit, that makes me sound like a stalker,
doesn’t it? I’m not, honest. Let me prove it to you.”

The more Fess babbled, the more relaxed Joe got. It was nice to

know even perfect male specimens were prone to looking idiotic
every once in a while. “And yet, you called me at work.”

“Because you left before I could give you my number.”
“Before…what?”
“How else was I going to get another chance to see you?”
“But why?”
“I thought I made that clear. Big fan, remember?”
“But then you met me.” As far as Joe was concerned, seeing

him in person would be the buzzkill for any idealistic fan.

“Which gave me a chance I never thought I’d get. So? Is it a

date?”

Apparently, Fess didn’t fall into that category. Which edged

him too close to the John Hinckley side for Joe’s comfort, baby
blue eyes notwithstanding.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“You have to eat.”
“I can do that at home.”

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

“That’s the third date.”
Joe chuckled in spite of his discomfort. “I just can’t. I’m

sorry.”

Fess sighed. “It was the stalker comment, wasn’t it? I shouldn’t

have played the self-awareness card.”

“No, it’s just—”
“You are not about to give me the it’s not you, it’s me excuse.”
Joe chewed on his lip. He had been and hadn’t even caught

onto it until Fess pointed it out. “I’ve got too much on my plate
right now. That’s all. But I appreciate the offer. Really.”

“All right, I guess I can feel a brick wall when I hit one. But

just so you know, I’m a really good date. You’re missing out.”

The whole idea that Joe was the one who thought he was too

good for this date was too ludicrous not to laugh at. “Whatever you
say.”

He hung up still chuckling at the idea, but as he settled back

into his chair, ready to start the next track as soon as the news was
over, he found Carlos staring at him through the glass.

“Is he a freak?” Carlos asked.
“Who, Fess? Nah. Just someone who recognized me at that

bachelorette party I was telling you about.”

“What was he doing at a bachelorette party?”
“You didn’t ask me that when you heard I was going.”
Carlos lifted a single, heavy eyebrow.
“He was the stripper,” Joe said. “You should’ve seen his

costume. He goes by the name Davy Cockett.”

“Let me get this straight. You just turned down a date with a

stripper who thinks you’re the best thing to come along since
bacon-flavored lube? Are you sick or something?”

“No, but I’m not dating somebody I don’t know. You heard

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

him. He’s a fan. That’s just asking for trouble.”

“How exactly do you think people get to know each other, my

friend? And Craigslist doesn’t count.”

Joe grimaced and made a gagging noise. “Give me credit for a

little taste.”

With a shake of his head, Carlos waved him off. “You just

turned down a date with a stripper who was practically begging for
it. I’m not giving you credit for nothing.”

As they settled into the third hour of his shift, Joe decided to

ignore everything Carlos and Fess had said. They had never
walked a mile in his shoes. He couldn’t trust that this would turn
out in his favor. He was a four. Five, tops. Fess was a nine who
probably skated into ten as soon as the buckskin came off. And
nowhere in the world did fours and nines ever add up to a happy
ending.

Of any kind.

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

CHAPTER 2

“Phone call.”
Joe glanced at the blinking red light. “Do I even need to ask?”
“That depends on how stupid you’re feeling today.”
Ignoring the sarcasm, Joe connected with a hesitant, “This is

Joe.”

“You didn’t even make me plead my case to Carlos this time.”

Fess sounded just as chirpy as he had the night before. All the
dreams Joe had of him came flooding back. Fess giving him a
private striptease. Joe showing him that his blowjob skills weren’t
all smoke and mirrors. He’d woken up so hard, he hadn’t even
made it to the shower before jerking off, a welcome relief to say
the least. The only part to disturb him about the entire night was
that he’d been the one wearing the coonskin cap during the whole

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

thing. “I’m making progress.”

“Is that what this is about? Because my answer hasn’t

changed.” How could it? Now that Fess had starred in sex dreams,
Joe would never be able to look him in the eye again. Not that he’d
been a pro at it before, but something about knowing what it felt
like to have the tail of a coonskin cap used as a leash during oral
sex pretty much made that impossible.

“No, I wasn’t going to ask you out again.” Something about his

tone told Joe that was a decision Fess had only just made. “But I
was hoping maybe we could get to be friends. Like you and
Stacy.”

“Oh, God, I hope not.” Joe heard how that sounded a second

too late and rushed to add, “I love her to death, but she’s
exhausting. Too much drama.”

“I’m screwed then.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I’m an actor. Drama’s my middle name.”
“Could be worse. Could be Parker.”
There was a pause. “Actually, it is.”
Joe laughed. “Fess Parker Kedley? I can’t believe your mom

saddled you with the whole shebang. If ever there was a lesson to
beware the obsessed fangirl, that would be it.”

“Yep. Just ask my brother.”
“Oh, no. What did she do to him? Call him Davy?”
“Worse. Buddy. As in Buddy Ebsen. Except nobody ever

remembers he was on the show, too, so he gets the Jed Clampett
teasing instead.”

Joe winced. “Well, if you’re trying to get my sympathy, it’s

working.”

“In that case, I better quit while I’m ahead.”

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

Wait. He was hanging up already? “Why did you call?”
“To say hi. Let you know I was thinking about you. The usual

things.”

And that was it. They said goodbye, hung up, and Joe spent the

rest of his shift musing on what exactly Fess had meant by the
usual things.

Fess didn’t call every night, but it was pretty darn close. They

never talked long, five minutes at the most, and Fess never brought
up the issue of dating again, but it only took a week before Joe was
looking at the clock, waiting for the news break Fess always chose
to speak to him. He discovered very quickly that Fess had a brain
behind the pretty face, keeping up with Joe one night after he went
on a tirade about a new bioengineering reform that big business
had completely distorted to suit their own interests. Did Fess know
the specifics? No, but most people wouldn’t. He did, however,
know what kind of questions to ask and what information to pick
out of Joe’s long-winded diatribe to prove he understood what
critical thinking was, a trait far too many people these days didn’t
have as far as Joe was concerned.

It wasn’t all so serious, though. Once, Fess called just to find

out the specifics on when a band Joe had just played was going to
perform again. Another time, Joe was the one to do the listening as
Fess told a story about how he’d had a secretary who looked like
Bea Arthur grinding against him at her retirement party. Joe had
been too busy laughing to remember the fantasies that had been
popping up more and more lately. At least until he hung up and
had time to pull himself together.

Three weeks later, they were in the middle of a bitching session

about how Supernatural had jumped the shark four seasons back
but they couldn’t quit the damn show because of how pretty Jensen

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

Ackles was when Carlos gave him the signal to wrap it up.

“Damn it,” Joe said. “Time for me to go.”
“Stupid work getting in the way of our fun,” Fess teased.
“Why don’t I call you back on the next break, then?”
Silence filled the line. “Um…because you don’t have my

number?”

Joe twisted to grab his cell phone from his messenger bag. “So

give it to me.”

Fess rattled it off as Joe keyed it in, ending with, “Are you

really going to call me back?”

He hit save before he lost it. “Sure, why not?”
“Because I’m always the one who calls you.”
“Then I guess I’m long overdue.” He jerked when Carlos

tapped on the glass. “I gotta go.”

“It’s about time,” Carlos muttered after he’d disconnected.
Joe flipped him off. “I got off as soon as you told me to.”
“I meant you calling Loverboy. That better be because you’re

going to ask him out, because I can only take so much of this
flirting foreplay, you know.”

“It’s not flirting. It’s called conversation.”
With a roll of his eyes, Carlos took his place back at the

console. “And that is why you haven’t been laid in three years, my
friend.”

They didn’t have time for Joe to argue with him on the point,

though he couldn’t stop thinking about it every time he started a
new track. He hadn’t given calling Fess a second thought. No fear.
No worries. Not a single question that he might be a stalker. Fess’s
hopes that they could be friends had been made real, sneaking up
on Joe without his realizing it.

What about dating? Maybe Carlos was seeing something in

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

these phone calls he had missed, but he couldn’t imagine what.
The stuff Fess shared was stuff any friend would share. There’d
been no come-ons, no innuendo, nothing since Joe’s unfortunate
blowjob comments the first time they talked. Maybe Fess wouldn’t
even want to date him now that he’d had the chance to actually get
to know him.

There was only one way to find out for sure.
He waited until the top of the hour when he had a few extra

minutes. Grabbing his phone, he excused himself for the bathroom,
ignoring the lift of Carlos’s knowing eyebrows. He wanted this
conversation to be private, just in case it went horribly, horribly
wrong.

At this time of night, it was only him and Carlos in the

building, but he locked the door behind him anyway before hitting
Fess’s number. As the other end rang, he leaned against the wall
and closed his eyes, willing his suddenly racing heart to slow the
fuck down. It accelerated with each passing ring. He was ready to
disconnect after the fourth when Fess finally picked up.

“Hello?” Fess sounded wary, more polite than Joe had ever

heard him before.

“Good, I didn’t put you to sleep.” Joe kept his tone light,

though he felt anything but. “You had me worried for a second
there.”

“I didn’t recognize the number. Aren’t you still at the station?”
“Yeah. This is my cell. I wasn’t interested in giving Carlos

another free show.”

“But…now I have your number. Is that what you want?”
He supposed he couldn’t blame Fess for being so cautious, but

he’d thought they’d moved past Joe’s paranoia. He took a deep
breath. Now or never. “Actually, I was hoping you might be

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

interested in meeting up for breakfast. So we could have longer
than five minutes before I have to go.”

“I would love to meet up,” Fess said, but his tone hadn’t

changed. “But…is this just to hang out and talk? The last time
breakfast got brought up, it was about a date, and you were
adamant it was never going to happen.”

“I was,” Joe admitted. “Then. This is now. I can’t say I really

understand why you’d want a date with me, but—”

“You think too much,” Fess cut in. “Yes. I’d love to have a

breakfast date with you. Tell me when and where, and I’ll be there
with bells on.”

Somewhere deep inside, the worst of his anxiety fluttered

away. He was ready to make a crack about how he should at least
merit the coonskin cap when he realized he wouldn’t be able to
look at it without being reminded of his sex dreams. Getting
through the date face-to-face would be hard enough without that
pressure added in. “You know where the Hollywood Grill is?”

“Sure.”
“Is five-thirty too late for you?”
A chuckle filled the line. “Who’re you talking to, dude? It’s

fine. Stop thinking about it so hard.”

“I thought you liked the fact that I take the time to think about

things.” Now this, he intended to be flirtatious, but he had no idea
how it came across.

Especially since Fess answered him as if it was a serious

accusation.

“Everything but this. I don’t want you talking yourself out of it

right when I finally get a chance with you.”

Though he was never going to understand why Fess kept

saying shit like that, he’d take his advice for the moment. “I’ll see

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

you in a couple hours, then.”

* * *

The Hollywood Grill wasn’t haute cuisine, but it was cheap, it

was filling, and best of all, it was always open when Joe got off
work. The kitschy decor featured the typical movie memorabilia,
bright and comforting in its familiarity, but sitting in the booth by
the window, Joe felt anything but. The paper from his straw sat in
a shredded pile next to his second Diet Coke, the broken lines of
the tic-tac-toe game he’d played against himself dried in the ring of
condensation.

Casual as it was, it was his first date in ten months. The first

one he’d instigated in two years. Fess might believe he was
overthinking, but Fess probably got hit on all the time. He had no
idea what rejection felt like.

Joe glanced at his phone. Five twenty-eight. Fess wasn’t going

to show.

The door swung open. Right on cue, Fess came strolling in.
He looked both different and the same. Joe knew those dancing

dimples, the laughing eyes, but without the cap to hide them, his
blond curls were a veritable riot, tumbling across his forehead,
over his ears, at his nape, making him look barely legal to drink.
He seemed smaller out of the costume, too, though not in a
Michael J. Fox way. More of a “holy crap, he doesn’t have a single
pinch of spare fat anywhere behind those muscles.” He wore a
plain gray T-shirt that had seen better days, washed thin enough to
reveal the tight peaks of his nipples against the fabric, and jeans
that hugged his slim hips and strong thighs.

Joe froze. He was Bigfoot trying to get it on with Captain

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

America. This had disaster written all over it.

Then Fess saw him and broke out into such a wide, excited

grin, Joe couldn’t help but smile back.

“You have no idea how good it is to see you,” Fess said as he

slid onto the opposite bench. “I had all these scenarios going
through my head on the drive over here where I walked in and you
were nowhere to be found.”

His words so closely echoed Joe’s thoughts, he couldn’t help

but say, “Why wouldn’t I be here?”

Fess shrugged. “You could’ve changed your mind.”
“I’m the one who asked you.”
“You’re also the one who kept turning me down.” He grabbed

the menu Joe had set aside and began scanning over the options.
“You’re lucky I’m an actor so I know how to take rejection.”

Joe let that sink in, more than a little agog. Fess was right. He’d

been so wrapped up in his own anxieties, his own head, he hadn’t
considered how it looked to Fess.

“I’m starved.” Fess was oblivious to Joe’s speechlessness. “Did

you order yet?”

“No.”
Fess waved over the young blonde waitress, flashing her a

thousand-watt smile. “Can I get the veggie skillet with a side of
multi-grain pancakes and coffee, please?” He slid the menu back to
Joe as she wrote it down. “Your turn.”

His debate about changing his mind on what he wanted lasted

only the time it took to remind himself if Fess didn’t want to date
him the way he was, it wasn’t worth it. “The Bahama pancake with
extra nuts, a side of bacon, and another Diet Coke, please.”

“I am so jealous,” Fess said once they were alone again. “Your

moneymaker doesn’t rely on hours at the gym to work off that

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

bacon.”

Joe bit back his natural inclination to snipe about gym rats. The

date would fail for sure if he went judgmental when Fess hadn’t
said a derogatory word yet. “Why acting?” he asked instead.
They’d never discussed it before. “For that matter, why stripping?”

“The stripping was an accident. A buddy got a callback at

Second City and begged me to take over his assignment so he
didn’t lose his job in case he didn’t get the gig. The tips were so
good, when they offered me a job, I decided to take it.”

“So you do it for the tips? It’s not…” He searched for a word

that wouldn’t be bitchy. It wasn’t easy. “Embarrassing?”

“Not any worse than some of the shit I have to do for auditions.

Besides, it’s got definite pluses.” He ticked them off on his fingers.
“It forces me to stay in shape, I make a ton of contacts, and I never
have to deal with reprimands because of unfortunately timed hard-
ons in front of clients.”

“Never?”
“Nope.”
“How is that possible?”
“Gay guys don’t care enough to complain, and I never get hard

when it’s women.” His gaze flicked downward as he started to
twirl his silverware along the table. “Well, once I did. But it didn’t
last long enough to be a problem.”

“What happened that time to make it different?”
The look Fess shot up through his lashes was shockingly shy.

“I talked to you before I went on.”

As a line, it was a good one. Unexpected. Flattering.
The weirdest part about it was, Fess looked like he was telling

the truth, too.

He’s an actor, a voice whispered in the back of Joe’s brain. It’s

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his job to convince people of lies.

But if all this was an act, Joe couldn’t figure out the purpose of

it. What could Fess possibly get out of snowing Joe? Could
somebody have hired him? Stacy, maybe, though she had to know
if Joe ever found out, he’d kill her. Nobody else Joe knew could
possibly care enough to go to such extremes. His family was all in
Michigan, and they believed the lies he fed them about his social
life. They knew he was gay and had been accepting ever since he
came out in high school, but his parents were workaholic attorneys
who saw achievements and facts rather than people, and his little
brother was too busy sleeping his way through Michigan State to
even think about his gay older brother.

So where did that leave Fess in all this?
“You’re thinking again,” Fess said as the silence stretched on.

“That never bodes well.”

“I just…” He searched for the words. He didn’t even have a

joke to tell in the aftermath of the confession. “I don’t get it,” he
blurted.

Fess frowned. “Get what?”
“Why.”
“Why what?”
Christ, if he was thinking too much, Fess wasn’t thinking

enough. “You’ve been pretty forward from the beginning. Calling
me at the station. Asking me out.” He gestured helplessly at the
space between them, like the words still hung there ready to get
shoved back into the box he wished they’d stayed. “That. I don’t
understand why.”

“But I told you. I’ve been listening to you for ages.”
“And then you met me.”
Fess waited as if Joe was going to say more, but when nothing

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came… “I’m not seeing the problem here.”

Time to be blunt. Joe’s face felt like it was going to combust

that he actually had to say this part out loud, but Fess was giving
him no choice and he wasn’t nearly strong enough to deal with
getting played if this turned out to be some big game. “You’re
gorgeous,” Joe said. “You can have anyone you could possibly
want. Guys like you don’t ask out guys like me.”

Folding his arms over his chest, Fess sat back in the bench, his

eyes narrowing into slits in annoyance. “Thanks for calling me a
shallow asshole.”

“I didn’t—”
“Yeah, you did. Is that why you turned me down the first

time?”

“Well, yeah. Mostly.”
“I thought it was because of the stripper thing. That you

thought I was just some dumb actor who took his clothes off at the
drop of a hat, so I wasn’t worth wasting time on a date on. And I
still called you back the next night to try again. So who’s the
asshole here?”

Joe, apparently, but he was too embarrassed now to admit it.

“When was the last time someone asked you out?”

“What does that matter?”
“Can you just answer the question?”
“Yesterday.”
“Do you want to know the last time someone asked me out?

Someone who wasn’t you, I mean. Last Christmas. A guy at
school. And he only did it because he didn’t want to be alone on
New Year’s.” Turning him down had been hard. Joe understood
what it felt like, that desire to be like everyone else, have someone
there on the important days. But he’d already committed to

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working that night—he worked all the major holidays—and Armin
had never bothered asking him again. “Not once in my life has
someone who looks like you ever expressed an interest in me. I
assumed the worst. I’m sorry.”

Whether Fess realized it or not, Joe meant for the apology to

encompass everything he’d thought wrong about him, from the
rejection to this. He still didn’t get what a guy like Fess got out of a
date with him, but clearly Fess saw something he liked if he was so
offended by being misunderstood.

After a moment, the tension in Fess’s shoulders relaxed, his

arms opening to rest at his sides. “I’d say I’m sorry others don’t
see what I do, but I’m not if it means I get a chance with you now.”

Joe thrust out a hand. “Truce?”
Fess looked down at the offering for several seconds before

taking it. “Truce.” His palm was sweaty, more evidence of his
nerves. Joe squeezed his fingers longer than necessary to try to
convey how well he understood. When they parted, Fess was
smiling again, as if the entire incident had never occurred. “So how
long is it going to take to get some food around here?”

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

CHAPTER 3

As rough as breakfast started out, Fess was pleased with how

things felt between him and Joe by the time they took care of the
check. Joe insisted on paying for it all, so Fess let him, partially
because he knew Joe still felt guilty about those first rocky
minutes, partially because he loved the idea that Joe wouldn’t have
a logical leg to stand on when Fess insisted on covering their
second date.

He didn’t know when or what that was going to be yet, but

there would be one, of that he was sure. He understood more about
what made Joe tick now. Seeing him again would be a hell of a lot
easier than getting this date had been.

Fess lounged by the door as he waited for Joe, doing his best to

look like his mind was elsewhere. Now that they were out of the

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

booth, too, he had to do what he could to hide his erection. What
would Joe think if he knew Fess had spent most of the meal hard as
a rock? Probably run in the opposite direction. The one thing Fess
had learned more than anything else in the past hour was that for
all his confidence on the air, Joe had absolutely none in a personal
arena.

While he understood Joe’s defense, he didn’t agree with it.

Okay, so maybe Joe wasn’t the best looking guy Fess had ever
seen, but he was hardly a troll. He topped six feet by several
inches, with legs like tree trunks and hands that would leave no
doubt they’d touched you when the time came. His auburn hair
was done neat and short, and if it was more Super Cuts than super
chic, that just fit with Joe’s no nonsense personality. Fess was
rather enamored with the beard Joe so blindly sported, and his
hazel eyes were clear and intelligent, unblinking and intense when
he decided to fix them on a person.

That didn’t happen enough, as far as Fess was concerned. Too

often, Joe would look elsewhere, or duck his gaze, anything but
look at Fess directly.

But what Fess couldn’t resist, what he’d never been able to

resist ever since the first time he heard Joe on the radio, was that
voice. When Joe spoke, thunder rolled in the distance. It was slow
and hypnotic, like every word meant something, sinking beneath
Fess’s skin to take root deep in his gut and send tendrils of smoke
and fire out to every single nerve ending he possessed. He hadn’t
heard a word of Joe’s broadcast that first time, too lost in how
molten his body became just listening to him. He’d jerked off as
soon as Joe went off the air, coming so hard he’d crashed for hours
afterward.

That voice was his porn of choice over the next few months,

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

but as he listened, he discovered the man behind it. Meeting him in
person hadn’t changed a single thing about how attracted he was to
him. If anything, it had enriched his fantasies since he now knew
exactly what Joe looked like.

Joe didn’t know any of this, of course. After Fess’s stupid

stalker comment, he couldn’t afford coming across as an even
bigger groupie freak than he was. That might change down the
road, or if Joe continued to be a dumbass about believing Fess
would want to go out with him, but for now, Fess was going to
keep his mouth shut on that particular detail.

“All set,” Joe said, joining him at the exit.
Fess pushed the door open and held it for Joe. Their eyes met,

his daring Joe to refuse this gesture, Joe’s wide-eyed in wary
delight. After a moment, Joe’s mouth curled into a crooked grin
and he brushed past Fess, waiting on the sidewalk so they could go
around to the parking lot together.

The sun was already up, glinting off the nearby windows. Joe

tilted his head to squint at the sky. “I feel like such a mole
sometimes,” he said out of the blue.

Fess shoved his hands into his pockets to stretch his jeans more

over his erection, praying Joe wouldn’t look down. “Why’s that?”

“I work all night, and then spend most of my daylight hours at

the library.” With a shrug, Joe began walking, slow enough for
Fess to keep up next to him. “I forget how pretty the city can be
sometimes.”

“How long have you lived here?” They’d talked around their

histories a little, but nothing too specific. Fess had the advantage of
knowing what Joe revealed on a nightly basis about his life, the
tidbits about his degree, his experiences, so it had seemed greedy
to ask for more.

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“Eight years. I transferred to Loyola from Central Michigan

after my freshman year, and I liked it too much to leave. What
about you?”

“Just under three years. I was sick and tired of just getting by in

Green Bay, so I told my parents I was going to try my hand at
acting, packed up, and I’ve been here ever since.”

“What about school?”
“I was saving up for it, but when I made my decision, I used it

for the move. College was probably never going to be a win for me
anyway. I’m not as smart as you.”

Joe cast him a quick frown. “You’re not dumb.”
“Nah,” he agreed, “but I’m too average to be much good at

anything I’d need a degree for. Besides, I love acting. I might not
be on Broadway or in Hollywood, but I get enough parts to make it
worthwhile. How many people can say they love what they do?”
He nudged Joe with his elbow. “I know you do.”

“Most of the time.”
That was something new, a detail Fess hadn’t expected.

“What’re you talking about? I thought you loved the station.”

“I do. It fits.”
“But…?”
Joe kicked at a loose stone at the edge of the parking lot,

pausing as it went jumping off the curb and beneath a gold Impala.
“Well, like the sun.” He glanced upward again, and his features
softened, his gaze almost pensive. “When I get out in it like this, I
realize how insular most of my life is. And I start
wondering…what if I had a regular job like everybody else? What
if I had to put up with coworkers instead of just Carlos? Maybe
everything would be different.”

His heart broke a little, hearing the wistfulness of Joe’s tone.

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

“Is that what you want?”

“Usually, no.” He straightened, glancing at Fess before looking

back over the half-full lot. “But then sometimes I think, maybe.”

More than anything, Fess wanted to close the distance between

them and wrap his arms around Joe, but Joe was too much like a
lost dog, skittish with contact though starved for the attention. He
settled for keeping his eyes on him, tilting his head with a smile,
begging Joe to trust him without uttering the actual words.

“I think we all get like that at some point in our lives,” he said

softly. “It’s a matter of deciding the change is worth the risk.”
When Joe looked back at him again, a fresh query bright in his
eyes, Fess decided to quit while he was ahead. “You should get
going if you plan on getting any sleep.”

Joe gave him a reluctant nod. “You have anywhere to be

today?”

“Nope, day off.” He began backing up, unwilling to turn away

from Joe until he absolutely had to. “Talk to you tonight?”

The smile he got was slow, but genuine. “Yeah.”
Fess drove back to his apartment with the memory of those last

moments playing over and over in his head. It was progress, even
if it was slow, but if he wanted any hope of making this work, he
had to take the wins as they came.

His phone vibrated in his pocket as he unlocked his apartment

door. When he pulled it out, his pulse skipped a beat. Joe.

“That was quick,” he said, keeping his tone light. “Did I forget

something at the restaurant?”

“No.” The low rumble was no longer faceless. After an hour in

the man’s company, devouring as many details as he could, Fess
could imagine Joe sitting in the front seat of his car, his gaze intent
on the road. “But I thought it would be easier to apologize again if

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I did it over the phone.”

Fess dropped into the corner of the faded brown futon that

served as his couch. “Dude, you don’t have to do that. We called a
truce, remember?”

“Yeah, but I needed to do this. Breakfast wasn’t anything at all

like I expected it to be.”

Closing his eyes made it easier for Fess to picture Joe. He

should’ve been tired, but the adrenaline from meeting Joe face-to-
face still thrummed through his blood, and his free hand rubbed
restlessly at his thigh as he tried not to let the rich cadences affect
him so much. “I’m going to stay positive and say it turned out
better,” he tried.

“Yeah. You are…” He trailed off, either searching for the right

word or unable to voice it. He’d done that a few times over the
meal, usually when his brain got ahead of his mouth. Fess could
always tell the exact moment when he made the decision not to say
something, an advantage he lost the second they got on the phone
instead.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Fess teased. “You can tell me how hot I am. I

can take it.”

Joe’s laughter was a relief, pricking the tension that had been

radiating through the line. “You already know that. How many
people at your gym have hit on you?”

“Too many,” he dismissed. “But it’s different to hear it from

someone I actually like. So go for it, big guy. Tell me what a stud I
am.”

“No thanks. Your ego is big enough without me making it

worse.”

“Except we’re not talking about the size of my ego, now are

we?”

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

Flirting was risky ground. They’d never gone this far in their

conversations, and it certainly hadn’t happened over breakfast, no
matter how badly Fess wanted it. He held his breath while he
waited to see how Joe would respond, his fingers stilling
dangerously close to his covered cock.

“I wouldn’t know,” Joe said. “You were sitting down the whole

time.”

Exhaling, Fess grinned. Another baby step, but Joe was

learning. “Come on,” he cajoled. “You didn’t check me out when I
walked in? I wore these jeans specifically so you would.”

Joe’s cheeks would be red right now, and he was probably

gnawing on the inside of his cheek like he’d done every time Fess
threw him for a conversational loop. The rejoinder came swiftly,
though. “I was in too much shock that you actually showed,
remember? Besides, I’ve done everything I can to avoid thinking
about certain parts of your anatomy ever since I found out your
stripper name. Which doesn’t make it easy, you know.”

It was Fess’s turn to laugh. “Where are you, anyway?”
“Home. You?”
“Same.” He glanced down the length of his body, noting the

bulge of his erection, and decided to take another risk. “Stretched
out on the couch, thinking of you.”

“Liar.”
“Okay, it’s a futon.”
“Very funny.”
“I’m serious.” He softened his tone to prove his sincerity. “I’m

going to ask you out again, you know.”

A sharp intake of breath. “No, I didn’t.”
“You should’ve. Breakfast was fantastic.”
“Once we got over me being an idiot.”

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

“Forget that part.”
“I’m trying.”
“Try harder.” When Joe sighed, Fess barreled onward. “Since

you’re having such a hard time extolling my virtues, why don’t I
do yours? Or I could just do you, that works, too.”

“Now you’re just messing with me.”
“Not in the way I want.” He dropped his hand away from his

crotch to take away the temptation to touch himself. He’d done that
often enough. Now he wanted to see if he could make Joe feel a
fraction of what he did. “I do have one regret about our date. I
didn’t get to kiss you.”

Joe made a choking sound he tried to cover up with a cough.

“I’m not sure the parking lot of the Hollywood Grill is the best
place for that anyway.”

“Would you have let me if I’d tried?”
“Would I have been able to stop you?”
“Always,” Fess assured. “I’m willing to take this at whatever

pace you want.”

Soft breath filled the line. A moment later, he heard the creak

of a mattress, and the image of that long body sprawled atop messy
blankets nearly shattered Fess’s resolve not to jerk off. “I’m trying
to believe you.”

“Do you want me to stop now?”
Silence. Then… “No, you don’t have to stop.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “Have you thought about me at

all before today?” His ears pounded in anticipation of what he
hoped to hear. His expectations weren’t high, but then again, Joe
had been the one to make the move.

“You made it pretty hard not to,” Joe said. “My first impression

was a whopper.”

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

“And you didn’t even see my show. Think of what it could’ve

been like then.”

“Oh, I have. Multiple times.”
Yes. Inside, Fess felt like cheering, but he settled for pumping a

fist Joe couldn’t see. “Know what the best part for me was about
meeting you in person? Seeing how solid you were. I hate twinks.”

“I would’ve thought that part was obvious from listening to

me,” Joe said, chuckling. “I definitely sound like my balls have
dropped.”

“Is that what got you into radio?”
“It helped.”
“Lucky for me.”
“So…you weren’t disappointed when you saw me?”
How many times was he going to have to say it? “Have we

forgotten the part where I started out my act with a hard-on?”

Joe made a sound like he was letting out all the air in his lungs.

“Right. I still think you’re crazy, though.”

“That’s okay. Just as long as you say yes when I ask you out

again.” He wanted to hear more of that heavy breathing, but this
line of conversation wasn’t going to get them there. “So where
would be the best place to kiss you for the first time?”

“I’m guessing you mean physical locale and not something

else.”

His thoughts hadn’t actually gone in that direction, but he loved

that Joe’s did. “Both.”

“Someplace private.” He chuckled. “You can take that as an

answer for both.”

“No audience.” Not a surprise, considering how little Joe

thought of himself.

“I wouldn’t be able to relax enough to enjoy it.”

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

“So you’re saying that if I got you relaxed enough before I got

to the kiss, it wouldn’t make a difference where we were.”

“Leave it to you to take it that way.”
Fess closed his eyes. “I like being challenged. It pushes me to

try harder.”

“That’s the one thing I knew for sure about you before

breakfast.” Joe sounded almost wistful. “You don’t give up.”

“Not when I really want something.”
“Would it be that big of a deal if our first kiss wasn’t

someplace out in the open, though?” Before Fess could respond,
however, Joe was already barreling on. “Jesus, listen to me. I’m
talking like it’s already a done deal.”

“As far as I’m concerned, it is.”
Joe’s breath hitched, what sounded like a groan rumbling

through the line. “My dreams are going to be crazy today,” he
muttered.

This was more like it. “Do you top or bottom when you dream

about me?”

“Oh, no, you’re not getting details. It’s embarrassing enough as

it is.”

“Dreams are always embarrassing. Did I ever tell you about the

one where I got the job to strip for the Queen of England? I was
given this whole set of rules beforehand on things I could and
couldn’t do. Like, I had to wear this crown through the whole act
without it falling off. And every time the queen nodded, I was
supposed to curtsey. Notice I said curtsey, not bow. Do you know
how hard that is to do when you’re not wearing any clothes?”

Joe was laughing by the time he was done, the tension that had

started threading through his tone gone again. That was the trick.
Keep him amused, remind him that Fess was just another guy, and

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

he stopped thinking so much about all the stupid reasons they
shouldn’t be talking.

“I’m still not telling you,” Joe said. “I need some secrets from

you.”

“All right,” Fess conceded. “What about in real life. Top or

bottom?”

“You ask that like I usually have a choice.”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
“Beggars can’t be choosers.”
Fess rolled his eyes. “Well, you’re not begging with me. Unless

that’s your thing, in which case, I’m filing that away for future
reference.”

“How about you answer first? If you say, I’ll say.”
Sure, he could do that. It might’ve been one of the easiest

requests Joe had made of him yet. “Until I met you in person, I
always imagined you being on top. But now that I know what you
look like, I wonder occasionally what it would be like to switch.”
Then, on a whim, he added, “I love your beard.”

Joe didn’t speak for several seconds, each one ticking by with a

new image of what he might be lying there doing instead. Maybe
he was touching himself, now that Fess had encouraged the sex
direction of his thoughts. Or maybe he was pulling at his beard,
wondering about the nutjob who seemed to fixate on the weirdest
parts of his anatomy. Fess wouldn’t ever know, and it was killing
him he couldn’t even ask.

“I’m good either way,” Joe said when he broke his silence. “It

all depends on the guy and the moment.”

Fess held his breath. The answer was better than he’d hoped.

“And me?”

“The same.” It was almost a whisper, so soft he could’ve

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missed it. “You were right. I did check you out when you walked
in. I’d be an idiot not to want a taste of that.”

He was starved for details, but Joe had already come so far in

this conversation, Fess wasn’t willing to press his luck. “I better
start planning what that second date is going to be, then. So we can
both get what we want.”

“Who says I don’t put out until the third date?”
“Honestly? I’d wait for the hundredth if it meant we did it

right.” His hand was shaking, his body too tight to keep this up
without turning his focus to his needy cock. “Listen, you’ve got to
sleep, so why don’t you go do that? I’ll talk to you tonight.”

“Oh, sure, like I’m going to be able to sleep now.” He sounded

like he was smiling.

“Do what you have to so you can. You can tell me about it

later.”

“I’m sure Carlos would love to hear about that.”
“Hey, if that helps…” He laughed to show he was kidding.

“G’night.”

Joe paused. “Before I go…thank you.”
“For what?”
“For a great first date. Talk to you later.”
Joe hung up too quickly for Fess to respond. Tossing the phone

aside, Fess burrowed deeper into the futon, a smile curving his lips.

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

CHAPTER 4

Joe fumbled with the tie, trying to get the knot straight for the

third time since picking it out. “Why do I need to wear this?”

On the bed behind him, Stacy sprawled on her stomach,

flicking through his latest copy of Entertainment Weekly. The
whole scene was such a rip-off of every high school romcom ever
done, it wasn’t even funny. “Because you want to look nice.”

Pausing, he glanced at her reflection. She hadn’t even looked

up when she spoke. He cleared his throat. “Excuse me, but you’re
the one who pestered me for two days about being here while I get
ready. The least you can do is pay attention while I have my panic
attack.”

“I’ll pay attention during the next one.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

With a growl, he whipped the tie out from his collar and tossed

it onto the top of the dresser. This was ridiculous. It was a second
date, not a first, and he’d been talking to Fess long enough now for
these kind of nerves to be worked out of his system. But the truth
of the matter was, ever since Fess had called to ask him to be his
date for a friend’s art exhibition, Joe had been more of a wreck
than he’d been sitting at the Hollywood Grill. It wasn’t that he
hadn’t expected Fess to follow through on his promise. It was that
Fess chose a very public venue for their next outing, one in which
he knew people and Joe did not, where he’d be introduced as the
date rather than a friend. This was everything Joe had hoped it
wouldn’t be, which only made him wonder if Fess had learned
anything at all about him in the month since they’d first met.

“Why didn’t he pick dinner?” he said.
“Because you guys ate out on your last date.”
“That was breakfast. Dinner is different.”
“Didn’t he say there’d be food at the exhibit?”
“Yes, but that’s different than sitting down and having a meal

together. We can talk over dinner. We can’t talk while we’re being
forced to mingle.”

“All you guys have done so far is talk. This is taking it to the

next level.”

As far as Joe was concerned, this was shooting their potential

in the foot right before the big race. He was going to look like an
idiot, and Fess was going to spend the night having to field
questions about why he’d bothered with Joe. “I can’t do this. I’m
going to call him and cancel.”

Before he could grab his phone, Stacy tossed aside the

magazine so she could scoop it up first. “Stop being ridiculous.
Didn’t you say you two hashed this out the first time you got

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

together? The whole accusing you of thinking he was a superficial
asshole?”

His cheeks heated. The memory of that part of their

conversation still embarrassed the hell out of him. “Yeah.”

“And you had a great time with him afterward, you said. And

when you called to apologize when you didn’t really need to.”

All true. Which meant, as per usual, Stacy was right, and he

was overreacting. He wasn’t a complete social misfit, though it felt
like it sometimes. He could conduct himself well in public and not
do or say anything that might embarrass Fess in front of his
friends. The only thing that was holding him back was his inability
to believe Fess might actually find him attractive. That would take
more than one slightly raunchy phone call to get past, most likely.

“I’m not wearing the tie,” he announced, like that made all the

difference. Taking a step back, he surveyed his reflection in the
mirror over the dresser as best he could. The black shirt was the
nicest one he owned, and Stacy had ironed it for him after he’d
pressed the collar crooked so it looked pretty sharp. He still wasn’t
sure about tucking it into his gray wool pants, but Stacy claimed
that he didn’t have a gut on him like it felt like he did and leaving
it hanging out looked too sloppy.

“You look great either way.” Clambering off the bed, she came

up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, giving him
a fierce hug. “I’m proud of you for doing this. I know it’s not easy
for you.”

Her embrace dispelled some of the chilly nerves that had been

threatening him. He even managed to smile at her in the mirror.
“I’m still not going to ask him to strip again so I can record it for
you.”

She stuck her tongue out. “Unfair. It’s the only chance I’ll get

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to see him naked again.”

“You could try paying him like everybody else does.” As soon

as the words came out, though, he grimaced. “On second thought,
don’t. That’s just weird.”

The knock at the front door tore Stacy away as she bounded

from the room to answer it. Joe darted after her to try and intercept,
but she beat him there, yanking it open with a brilliant smile.

“Joe!” she called out as if he wasn’t standing six feet behind

her. “Your date’s here!”

Shaking his head, he came up and pushed her out of the way.

“And now half of Chicago knows that, too. Thanks, Stace.”

“I hope you’re as excited about this as Stacy is,” Fess said.
While Joe had struggled over what to wear, Fess had taken a

more casual route. He sported navy pants with legs so skinny, Joe
was pretty sure he’d never be able to pull a pair in his size up past
his calves. They looked great on Fess, though, chic and somehow
elegant paired with a maroon V-neck sweater and brown boots.
He’d slicked his hair back in an attempt to control the curls, and
Joe had to ball his hand into a fist to stop from reaching out and
mussing them up again.

“You look great,” Joe said. The adjective didn’t do Fess justice,

but it was the best his tongue-tied self could come up with.

Fess smiled at the compliment, his blue eyes glittering with

excitement. “Are you ready to go, or do I need to find out what
your curfew is from Mom before we leave?”

“You have my permission to keep him as long as you want,”

Stacy said. “Just make sure he actually enjoys himself.”

“That’s the plan.” Fess tipped his head toward the hall. “Shall

we?”

Joe followed him out of the apartment building, a little relieved

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when Fess led him straight to a gray Taurus. The car was
serviceable, but clean, nothing flashy that might draw undue
attention. Joe didn’t even have to move the seat back to
accommodate his legs and settled in with a small sound of
satisfaction.

“Natalie’s been working her ass off for this exhibit,” Fess said

as they pulled into traffic. “She’s so talented. I think you’re going
to be impressed.”

“That doesn’t take much. I don’t know much about art.”
“You don’t need to. She’s very accessible.”
“How do you know her?”
“Her girlfriend was the stage manager for a one-act festival I

did last year. She got Natalie to come in and do all the art
decoration.”

“So it’ll be a lot of theater and art people there tonight?”
Fess cast him a sideways glance. “Some. Are you nervous?”
He considered lying, then decided Fess would probably see

straight through that. “A little.”

“Don’t be. We don’t have to hang out with my friends if they

make you uncomfortable.”

“But…they’re your friends.”
“And I get to see them all the time. When you let me start

seeing you that much, then I’ll be more obnoxious about choosing
friends first. Until then, you have to put up with me monopolizing
our time together.”

Joe had no rebuttal for that. He stared at Fess for a moment

before snorting and shaking his head. “I realize I’m going to wake
up at some point and discover that this has just been a really
fantastic dream, but for now, I’ll go along for the ride and enjoy it
while I can because who knows when I’ll get another chance like

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this.”

Fess’s smile was brilliant. “I can tell you when.”
“Oh? When’s that?”
“It’s called a third date.”

* * *

The exhibition was at one of the galleries downtown that Joe

had always thought too pretentious to bother learning more about,
the sort of place he’d assumed people paid more money than he
earned in a year for a sculpture of a paper clip made out of
Styrofoam that was supposed to decry modern office sensibilities
or some shit like that.

Instead, he walked into a room that felt like someone’s living

room. Specifically, someone’s grandmother’s living room. Rich
carpets covered the floor, with overstuffed couches covered in
doilies anywhere he could possibly want to sit and some places he
couldn’t imagine anyone would want to settle. The scuffed oak end
tables had hurricane lamp lighting and knickknacks up the wazoo,
and in one corner sat an old stereo/radio console, with the top
propped open and Bing Crosby crooning for the entire room to
hear.

When Fess hesitated, Joe took the initiative and headed straight

for the record player, crouching down to inspect the walnut carving
that protected the speaker screens. Early sixties, by the design of it,
but the sound quality was better than he would’ve expected.

“Leave it to you to go straight for the electronics,” Fess said at

his shoulder.

“I love these things.” He longed to pull it out and take a look at

the back to see how the mechanics were holding up, but that was

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definitely going a step too far. Straightening, he took a step away,
though he didn’t stop gazing wistfully at it. “My grandparents had
one of these when I was little. Then they sold it when my dad
bought them a CD player instead. Music never sounded the same
to me after that.”

“You never considered getting one of your own?”
Joe shook his head. “My vinyl collection is tiny. It wouldn’t be

worth the expense.” With a sigh, he turned away to look over the
room again. “So where’s the actual art show? Is this it?”

Fess gestured toward the walls. “The portraits. They’re all

hers.”

He’d been so enamored with the decor, he hadn’t noticed the

paintings. They were framed in heavy wood to fit the ambience the
furniture created, the smaller ones almost overwhelmed by the
ornate carving. When he peered closer, however, he discovered
they weren’t typical portraits of the period. She’d captured people
from bygone eras in the middle of their work—a woman hunched
over a sewing machine in the middle of a sweatshop, a farmer
holding down a calf as it got branded. They were nearly photo-
realistic, but the thick ridges of dried oil paint proved they’d been
created from nothing, brought to life in painstaking detail.

His jaw literally dropped as he moved around the room,

peering into each one as he sought out the specifics that made them
so real. He forgot about Fess and his anxiety over the date. He
even forgot about the gorgeous console that had attracted him upon
arrival.

“Told you she was good,” Fess murmured.
“These are better than good. These are astounding.” He tilted

his head as if that would give him a better angle to see into the
weary eyes of a coal miner that hung over a fake mantel. His face

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was mostly hidden, and what little Joe could see of his jaw was
smeared in coal dust that looked so real, his fingertips felt grimy.
“These can’t be straight from her head. She must’ve used pictures
or something to paint from.”

“Models, actually. A lot of us posed for her.”
“Us?” Joe swiveled to stare at Fess. “Are you in one of these?”
Fess grinned and jerked his chin toward the miner he’d been

fascinated by. “You’re looking at me.”

Joe didn’t believe it. Nothing about the miner even hinted it

could be Fess, though the baggy overalls could’ve hidden the trim
body. The figure in the painting looked too worn and exhausted to
be the vibrant man at his side.

“You must be an amazing actor,” he said. “I don’t see you in

there at all.”

“Thanks, but hold onto those compliments until you’ve actually

seen me in something, okay? I mean, this isn’t even really me. I’m
just the placeholder for Natalie’s imagination.”

“Don’t believe him for a second.” The warm alto came from

behind them. Joe turned to see a heavyset blonde smiling at them.
She was as elegantly dressed as Fess was, in a black pencil skirt
and matching shawl-collar sweater, but he could’ve sworn he saw
a swathe of purple paint disappear beneath the sleeve. “No actor
should be that modest.”

Joe stifled his laugh when he saw she was being serious. “I take

it you’ve seen some of his work, then.”

“This is Natalie,” Fess said. He edged closer to Joe’s side.

“Natalie, this is Joe Salinas.”

When they shook hands, her smile deepened. “The DJ, right?”
“Technically,” he said, though he wondered just how much

Fess had told his friends about him. “It pays the bills while I finish

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up my doctorate.”

“In what?”
“Bioethics.”
Her eyes widened until she more closely resembled an anime

character than the artist professional she presented herself as.
“That’s some heavy-duty shooting there. What’re you going to do
with that when you’re done?”

“Probably continue DJ-ing.” When she laughed, rich and

throaty, he realized he wasn’t nervous with her at all. It felt safe to
add, “Your work is phenomenal, by the way. If you don’t sell
every single piece tonight, something is wrong with this world.”

“Thank you.” She leaned closer to Fess. “Keep this one. I like

the way he thinks.”

Fess pitched his tone lower to match hers. “You like everybody

who compliments your work.”

“Don’t we all?” When someone called her name from deeper in

the gallery, she winced. “Damn it, I gotta go. Save me a couch so
we can catch up later, all right?”

“We can sit on the couches?” Joe asked, surprised.
“What’s the point of having them if not to sit on?”
She was gone as swiftly as she’d descended, leaving Joe

slightly bewildered about what had just happened.

“You heard the woman.” Fess slipped his hand into Joe’s and

tugged him toward the nearest sofa. “Let’s sit.”

Joe obliged. He even let Fess keep their fingers intertwined

once they were settled. “You told her about me.”

“Sure,” Fess said. “Why wouldn’t I?”
Fess was far too good at making statements that cheated Joe

from refuting them. Because in that moment, as relaxed as he was,
as unbothered as he was by Fess’s outward affection, as delighted

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as he was with the people Fess called friends, he could only
summon one thought.

Why wouldn’t he, indeed?

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

CHAPTER 5

The gallery was a third full when Fess sought out Natalie to

make his goodbyes. He found her away from the rest of the guests,
sitting in the manager’s office with her feet propped up in her
girlfriend Maren’s lap so Maren could rub them.

“I am never letting you talk me into wearing those shoes

again,” she was complaining. “They’re torture devices.”

“They’re adorable,” Maren said. “You looked great in them.”
“I am never going to walk again.”
“You have to,” Fess chimed in from the doorway. “At least all

the way to the bank to take care of all your sales tonight.”

Lifting her head off the couch’s armrest, Natalie shot him a

tired smile. “You, of course, still look like you walked in off the
fashion pages.”

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“That’s because all he did all night was sit and talk to his date,”

Maren said. “You were actually working the crowd.”

“Speaking of Joe…” Natalie looked pointedly past Fess’s

shoulder. “He didn’t leave yet, did he?”

“No, not yet. I just came back to tell you we were probably

heading out now.”

Maren stopped her foot massage to join in on the conversation.

“I thought you were coming back to the apartment with all of us to
gossip about everybody else who came. I bought that awful wine
you like and everything.”

Natalie’s eyes were dancing. “That was before he brought the

DJ to spend the night with. And I am sorry I ever gave you grief
for staying up all night to listen to some radio program. If I knew
he sounded like Alan Rickman, I would’ve asked for the details of
when he was on ages ago.”

Maren gasped in sudden delight. “He sounds like Alan

Rickman? Why haven’t I met him yet?”

“He does not sound like Alan Rickman,” Fess said with a

laugh. “He’s from Michigan.”

“So Alan without the English accent,” Natalie amended. “It’s

still sexy as hell. He’d make an absolute killing doing voiceover
work. You should hook him up.”

Fess shook his head. “Not his thing. He hates being the center

of attention.”

“And he’s spending time with you?” Maren said. “Good luck

with that.”

Fess wasn’t going to get into it with Maren of all people. She’d

seen him at both his best and worst, and knew exactly how much
he didn’t mind getting noticed. “This is only our second date. I’m
not going to scare him off by introducing him to all you freaks.”

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

“That’s the best way to start out a possible relationship,”

Natalie argued. “Test his mettle from the get-go to see if he’s got
the balls to stick around.”

“Unless you’ve already tested his balls,” Maren added, all

wide-eyed innocence all three of them knew was a sham. “In
which case, tell me which couch you were on so I can get it
cleaned before we have to return it.”

Natalie swung her legs off Maren’s lap. “I want to say goodbye

before you disappear. Come on, Maren. You can be the deciding
vote on whether Fess is just in denial about his boyfriend.”

The protest that Joe wasn’t his boyfriend died on his lips. He

couldn’t argue against an outcome he was hoping for.

A rejuvenated and shoeless Natalie led the way back into the

now even emptier gallery. The handful of guests who remained
were huddled in conversations around the couches. With his
height, Joe was easy to spot. He stood with Ivan, the gallery
manager, next to the stereo he’d admired when they arrived.

As soon as he saw them approaching, Joe stiffened and stepped

back, opening up the conversation to include the invading trio.
Fess went immediately to Joe’s side, closing the gap between them
so that Joe had no choice but to accept the slight physical contact
where they brushed against each other.

“You’re not trying to hustle one of my new friends, are you,

Ivan?” Natalie said.

Ivan smiled, and three more chins suddenly appeared. He

wasn’t a big guy, but whatever he did to keep the weight off at his
age—he was dragging the wrong side of fifty behind him—it
didn’t do anything for him from the neck up. “Hustle is such an
awful word. I prefer negotiations.”

“I was asking him what consignment shop rented out your

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

decorations,” Joe said.

“He’s in love with your stereo,” Fess explained.
“Love’s a strong word,” Joe said, mimicking Ivan’s affected

accent. If Fess had tried something like that, it would’ve come
across as mean-spirited. Out of Joe’s mouth, it was merely
humorous. “It’s more like a little crush.”

“That might be the only piece of furniture in here that we didn’t

have to rent.” Natalie stroked the walnut lid, the caress almost
sexual. “It was the first piece that Maren and I ever bought
together.”

“This stoner in Milwaukee was selling it on Craigslist for his

neighbor,” Maren added. “We got it for a song.”

Joe smiled, and Fess’s heart skipped a beat, the way it had

happened all night when Joe did that. It wasn’t often. As funny as
Joe could be, he carried a sober edge to him, like he was always
weighing the consequences of his words a split second before he
uttered them. That made each smile valuable, because they usually
sprang up at his most relaxed moments, when he disconnected
from his overanalytical brain for a moment to indulge in the
spontaneity of the now. Having Joe offer one up so readily to
people he’d only just met held deeper implications than Fess was
sure Joe realized.

“You must be Natalie’s girlfriend.” Joe held his hand out. “I’m

Joe.”

“Oh, shit,” Natalie said. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve introduced

you two up front. Maren, Joe Salinas. Joe, Maren Shaef.”

As she reached for Joe’s hand, Maren gave Natalie a little

nudge. “You’ve been busy all night. You’re excused. Fess, on the
other hand…”

“What?” he said, holding up his hands in surrender. “Like I

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wasn’t busy all night, too?”

When Joe glanced down at him, he could’ve sworn he saw

affection in his eyes and the slight curve of his mouth. “Maybe it’s
not quite the same,” Joe scolded gently.

“I don’t blame him,” Natalie said. “It’s easy to forget about the

rest of the world when you’re all wrapped up in something you
mean just for you.”

“Thank you—hey!”
The others laughed as Fess caught on a moment too late that

she was adding to the Fess-was-too-self-centered pot. He scowled
and folded his arms over his chest.

“I can’t say that I wasn’t in the same boat,” Joe said. He

surprised Fess by slipping his arm around his waist, his fingertips
barely curving around the other side. “I mean, come on. Look at
my date.”

The possessive gesture did not go unnoticed by either girl, their

pointed glances telling, but the last thing Fess wanted to do was
draw attention to it and shatter what little confidence Joe might be
gaining in their potential relationship. “I hope the show did well
for you tonight,” he said to Natalie.

When she glanced at Ivan, he beamed. “Over half the pieces

will have new homes tomorrow,” he announced.

Exclamations of “Wow, that’s great!” and “Congratulations!”

went around the group. “Did the miner sell?” Fess said.

“Leave it to Fess to ask about his picture,” Maren said with a

laugh.

“It did, actually,” Joe offered. “Didn’t you see the little old lady

gushing over it all night? She was the tiniest, sweetest looking
thing. She had to tilt her head way back to see it on the wall.”

He hadn’t, but as soon as Joe mentioned her, he burst out into

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laughter. “I should’ve guessed.”

“Guessed what?”
“Who bought it.”
“You know her?”
“Yeah, and don’t be fooled by her appearance. That’s Mrs.

Grimshaw, Natalie’s neighbor. Every time I went over to Natalie’s
to pose, Mrs. Grimshaw would be out in the hall, waiting for me. It
took me five minutes to get past her, and then when I did, she’d
pinch my ass.”

“Ah, the dangers of the trade,” Maren commented.
“At least, it was covered,” Joe said.
More laughter. “And on that note, I think we should make our

escape.” Fess tilted his head up to Joe. “Ready to go?”

“Yep.” To the girls… “It was nice meeting you.”
“Likewise.”
Maren and Natalie trailed after them, but at the door, when

Maren swept in for a hug, she whispered in Fess’s ear, “Rickman,
all the way.”

His cheeks were hot when they stepped into the cooler night

air, but the darkness masked it from Joe’s view, thank God. Joe
had let him go as they exited, and though he walked alongside Fess
to the parking lot, he kept his hands to himself, a lack Fess missed.

“Your friends are nice,” Joe said. “Thanks for bringing me.”
“So not as bad as you thought it was going to be?”
“No. And…I’m sorry for that. I was just nervous.”
“Well, for what it’s worth, they really liked you, too.”
“Good. I’m glad. That’s…easier.”
It was a curious statement, and Joe didn’t elaborate. “What do

you mean?”

“To feel like I fit in.”

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

“You did more than fit in. If either Natalie or Maren swung that

way, they would’ve been all over you.”

Joe’s step faltered, slowing enough to draw Fess’s attention

back up to him. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Do what?”
“Try and make me feel better about myself.”
“I’m not. I’m stating facts. Natalie’s convinced you’d make a

fortune doing voice work.”

“But I’m already on the radio.”
They had reached his car, but Fess blocked the way to keep Joe

from getting in just yet. “Look, you know your voice is an asset.
I’m not saying anything there you aren’t already aware of. But I
don’t think you hear it the way the rest of the world hears it.
It’s…” There was only one word that fit. He might’ve held off on
telling Joe just how he got to him before out of fear, but Joe
needed to know at least part of it. “Sexy. Very sexy. Like you
could read a grocery list and still get me hard kind of sexy.”

Joe was staring at him in wide-eyed confusion. “You really

think so?”

“Why else would I have started crushing on a guy I’d only ever

heard on the radio?” Fess said. “Think about it. I know you’re
smart enough to put those pieces together.”

Those pieces and so much more if he just believed in himself

like Fess did.

The expression on Joe’s face remained a mix of incredulity and

disbelief, his eyes uncharacteristically dark in the insipid lighting
from the streetlamps. Fess didn’t need to be a rocket scientist to
know he was rolling over everything Fess had said, probably trying
to twist it into something that conformed to his warped self-view,
but as much as it irritated him that Joe took that path yet again, he

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refrained from saying anything more. If they stood any shot at all,
Joe had to accept that Fess wanted that future, too. Until then, they
were just dancing around, dabbling on the occasional casual date,
more friends than anything else. Maybe it would never evolve to
something more. He knew that was a possibility. But if it did, he
wanted it to be because Joe fought for it, too.

“Did you have something in mind for after the exhibit?” Joe

asked.

Fess wasn’t prepared for the question, and he had to mentally

backtrack a little to answer. “It depended.”

“On?”
“How it went, what we ate, how late it was.”
Joe took a deep breath. “What if I invited you back to my

place? Could that fit into what you had in mind?”

Though his pulse accelerated, Fess relied on every acting

instinct he had to keep playing it cool. “I’d love that.”

* * *

Joe’s apartment was bigger than his, a two-bedroom in Rogers

Park with hardwood floors and a white country-style kitchen with
the kind of glass-fronted cabinets his mom had been nagging his
dad for years to get for her. Framed posters advertising local gigs
filled every spare inch on the walls, with the hall reserved for more
personal pictures, photos of Joe with what had to be his family,
with other friends, and one of a sweaty teenaged Joe playing drums
that Fess couldn’t stop smiling at.

Joe hovered behind him, letting him look to his heart’s content.

“Did you want something to drink?” he asked. “I’ve got coffee,
Diet Coke, and grapefruit juice.”

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Fess glanced back at him, unable to resist the urge to flirt. “You

mean you’re not going to get me drunk and take advantage of me?
Damn.”

Though Joe’s cheeks pinked, he didn’t fidget or look away. “I

didn’t think I’d need alcohol for that.”

Fess laughed, a sound to reflect his sheer delight that the Joe he

knew on the phone was starting to shine through in person, too.
“No, you got me there.” Though he cast a longing look down the
hall, he turned back to the living room and settled in the corner of
the couch. “I’m good, actually. Thanks, anyway.”

After a moment of indecision, Joe sat on the opposite end of

the sofa, too far away for Fess’s liking but at least he turned and
faced Fess with his bent knee between them. “You are constantly
surprising me,” he said, his eyes soft and contemplative.

Angling sideways, Fess rested his head on the back of the

couch and matched Joe’s tone. “I’ve always thought that’s a good
thing.”

“It is. It’s my own fault I let it get to me.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s never easy when you find out you’re more judgmental

than you thought you were.”

“Most people wouldn’t even be self-aware to recognize that.”

Reaching forward, Fess broke the invisible barrier that separated
them to latch onto Joe’s fingers. “Come here.”

Joe yielded to his lead, sliding across the cushion until their

knees touched. “I didn’t plan for you to come back here tonight.”

“I know. What changed your mind?”
“You did.” He pulled away from Fess’s fingers to graze the tips

of his across the bared skin at Fess’s open collar. It tickled more
than anything else, but Joe’s boldness stole Fess’s breath away. “If

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you knew half the stuff I’ve dreamt about you, you never would’ve
agreed to coming home with me.”

It would’ve taken getting chained to a snow plow stuck in

Antarctica to keep Fess away. He swallowed against the dryness of
his throat. “Are you going to tell me what they were?”

“No.”
Unsurprising. “You could show me then.”
Joe’s gaze snapped up, away from the pulse he’d been tracing.

His finger hovered above the scant patch of skin, the lambent heat
still leaping between them. He stared for long moments, then his
lips twitched into a half-smile. “Can’t. You didn’t bring your
coonskin cap.”

The image was so opposite what he would’ve expected to hear

from Joe that Fess burst out into laughter again. Grabbing onto
Joe’s hand, he dared nipping at the calloused thumb.

Joe hissed. With barely a blink, he leaned forward and kissed

the corner of Fess’s mouth.

His lips tingled at the unexpected caress, but Fess reacted

instantly, dropping Joe’s hand and angling his head to better seal
their mouths together. Neither man hesitated to deepen the kiss,
opening up, seeking out the other’s tongue, moaning as each made
contact. Everything Fess had dreamed about suddenly seemed to
pale compared to the reality of Joe’s beard scraping across his lips,
Joe’s hungry delves as he sought out every hot spot inside Fess’s
mouth. In his fantasies, he was the one eager to devour Joe. This
reciprocal desire was better than anything he’d hoped for, and his
heart burned at the possibilities of everything that might yet come.

The only problem was, kissing made him want more. Like

climbing onto Joe’s lap and staying there until the sun came up.
But then Joe’s free hand alighted on Fess’s belt to pull it free of the

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buckle, and rational thought fled.

“This too fast for you?” Joe murmured between kisses.
“God, no,” Fess said.
He leaned back, dragging Joe with him. His cock strained

against his fly, his boxer-briefs already damp from pre-come.
When Joe kept brushing against its covered length as he worked
the belt free, Fess bucked upward in a desperate bid to strengthen
each touch.

Relief came when Joe finally managed to get the buttons open.

At least until Joe shoved his hand into his pants to cup his balls.

Fess slammed his head back against the couch, squeezing his

eyes shut as he swore under his breath. Joe wasn’t fazed by the
disruption, gliding his mouth downward to suck and bite at Fess’s
neck. Sparks shot up and down Fess’s thighs, his ass clenching
reflexively as he thrust up and into Joe’s fingers.

“You’re so damn hot for this, aren’t you?”
Joe’s voice was a rumble deep into his bones, liquefying them

at the same time he torched his skin. “Yes,” Fess said. “You have
no idea.”

“I think I’m finally getting it.”
“No, not yet.”
Reaching between them, Fess covered Joe’s hand with his,

coaxing him to move higher. Together, they shoved Fess’s
underwear out of the way, hooking it beneath his balls so his cock
sprang free. The tension stung around his sac, but it provided the
necessary brakes to keep Fess from coming too soon.

Joe took the hint and fisted Fess’s shaft. Pulling back, he met

Fess’s eyes as he began to pump up and down its length. Joe’s had
gone black with desire, but more than arousal shone in their
depths. He was just as amazed at how fantastic this felt as Fess

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was. As much as Joe hid behind his jaded mask, as shy as he could
be, he was physically incapable of hiding awe when it
overwhelmed him.

Fess loved that. He loved even more that he was the reason the

mask could crumble at all.

Unspeaking, Fess grabbed the hem of his pullover and yanked

it over his head. He needed more contact, and if Joe wasn’t going
to strip him down, he certainly had no qualms about doing it for
him.

Joe’s lashes flickered as he glanced down at Fess’s chest. Fess

wasn’t as bulky as some of the other strippers at the agency, but he
was ripped well enough to get people looking his way. His acting
ability would only open so many doors. Looking good was a
priority, so he worked his ass off to maximize what he had. Joe had
nailed it on the head when he’d pointed out Fess was aware of his
appeal, but what mattered to Fess right here, right now, was that
Joe saw it and wanted him, too.

Joe let out a long, heavy breath. “I’ve died and this is heaven,

because I can’t for the life of me figure out how else this could be
happening.”

A pleased flush crept down Fess’s neck and onto his shoulders.

“I thought you didn’t believe in heaven.”

“Clearly, I was wrong.”
Without losing his lazy rhythm on Fess’s cock, Joe bent and

grazed his beard across the nearest nipple. When it drew into an
even tighter peak, he flicked his tongue over it, catching it against
his upper teeth for a moment before moving to its mate.

Fess clawed at Joe’s shoulders, trying to draw him closer.

Everything was a tease, designed to drive him utterly crazy, he was
sure. The muscles he felt were a delightful surprise, maybe not as

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pronounced as his but stronger than he thought Joe realized. They
twitched and jumped with every stroke, prodding Fess to explore
each one he could reach, as well as struggle to get to those he
couldn’t.

Joe licked his way down his torso, along his abs, lavishing

them with more attention than any lover Fess had ever had. He
writhed, everything too raw to decide what to do, how to react. All
he could do was whimper and cling to Joe, wait for what he knew
was to come.

Hot breath fanned over the tip of his cock.
“How much do people see when you strip?”
The question was barely audible. So lost in his pleasure, Fess

almost missed it.

His hand shook as it came up to rest on Joe’s shoulder, his

thumb stroking the edge of Joe’s beard. “I don’t do full frontal.”

“So this is just for me.” His tone was wondrous, more than

enough to shake off the romantic edge his words could’ve taken
under other circumstances.

“You can have whatever you want,” Fess whispered. “All you

have to do is ask.” And not even that if he just wanted to take it
instead.

Joe sighed. When he muttered, Fess could’ve sworn he heard,

“Have mercy.”

Any chance at asking him to repeat it was taken away when Joe

sucked the tip into his mouth. The pressure was light, the slide of
Joe’s tongue around the head nearly gentle. Fess dug into Joe’s
shoulder, ignoring the way his balls had already tightened to
painful proportions, and did everything he could not to drive
upward and bury his cock in Joe’s throat. Patience. That’s what he
needed. But for all the patience he’d exercised just to get to this

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point, Fess didn’t think his resolve would survive in this
environment.

Joe kept him steady by gripping him at the base, angling his

dick away from his stomach so he could get all the way around
with ease. He kept groaning as he sucked, a constant barrage of
vibrations that had Fess curling his toes. Fess recognized those
sounds. They were the sounds of a starving man, one who was
finally getting a taste of something he’d craved for too long. The
first time Fess had ever had sex with a guy, he hadn’t shut up the
entire time, too excited to keep it all inside. Afterward, he’d been
mocked for being so loud, which prompted years of being self-
conscious about what kind of noises he made during sex.

Now, it looked like he could throw that restraint away. His

heart tripped a little bit faster.

“Yeah,” he said, testing the waters. “Don’t stop.”
Joe hummed in approval and sank down a couple more inches.

His free hand smoothed over the sharp plane of Fess’s abs, his
blunt nails occasionally scratching across a sensitive strip of skin.
When he tweaked Fess’s nipple, Fess moaned. Thank God Joe was
smart enough to catch on to how much he liked that. Encouraging
Joe was one thing. Dirty talk was more than likely something he’d
have to work up to.

He let the moans do the work, as well as his hands, allowing

them to roam and knead and scratch and soothe as Joe began
bobbing up and down. His mouth watered to get Joe in a similar
position, but every time he thought he was ready to suggest
pausing so they could reposition into a sixty-nine, Joe swallowed
more of his length and drove away rational thoughts for a few
minutes longer.

The best part was when Joe chose to nibble around the crown,

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tiny bites that didn’t hurt so much as heighten the sensations when
Joe would lick over them again. Fess whined like a bitch in heat
when that happened.

The ending barreled toward him sooner than he anticipated, but

he was too far gone to do anything but embrace the coming
inferno. He cupped Joe’s head between his hands, rocking slightly
to fuck Joe’s mouth until Joe took the hint, inhaled deeply through
his nose, and buried Fess’s cock in his throat.

He lost it. Frankly, Fess was shocked he hadn’t lost it sooner.

His orgasm ripped through him, pulling a gargled shout past his
lips, as his entire body turned into one lone nerve ending, forever
singed by the constriction of Joe’s throat. Vaguely, he felt Joe
swallowing each blast, but that just prolonged the bliss, seconds
upon seconds where the whirlwind caught him, buffeting him back
and forth until it allowed him to melt into the couch.

Joe was watching him when he opened his eyes, his chin

resting on Fess’s thigh. His mouth glistened, and a few drops of
come clung to the corner, trapped by his beard.

Though he felt like he was made of molasses, Fess sat up and

leaned in to lick away the fluid. Joe tilted his head to give him
better access, but as Fess tried to collapse back into the cushions,
Joe stopped him with the curve of his fingers around Fess’s nape.

The kiss that came was gentler than its predecessors, a

lingering rather than heavy exploration. He could taste himself on
Joe’s tongue. It only spurred his desire to have a matching delicacy
on his own.

“Your turn,” Fess murmured.
He fumbled as he tried to reach for Joe’s fly, his fingers fat and

useless. Joe chuckled and nipped at his chin.

“I think you need a break before we get to my turn,” he said.

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Fess pouted. “I can do this.”
“I’m sure you can.” Amusement lit his gaze as he let Fess pull

back, but it was warm and welcoming with none of the trepidations
he’d had earlier. “But frankly, I’m trying to drag this night out as
long as I possibly can, so humor me, okay?”

Fess smiled. “On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“We move this to the bedroom.”
Joe’s eyes dipped, intent on Fess’s abs as he skimmed his

fingertips along them. “Are you spending the night?”

“As much as I’d love to, I shouldn’t.” He hated he had to be

responsible about this. “I have an early audition.”

His brows shot up. “Really? You didn’t mention that.”
“Because I was more interested in our date.”
“Acting’s important to you.”
“So are you.”
Joe let out a long, ragged breath. “How am I supposed to say

no to that?”

“You’re not.”
In lieu of an answer, Joe peeled away from Fess’s leg and rose

to his feet. As watery as his limbs were, Fess felt weightless when
Joe tugged him upright. He followed as Joe led the way down the
hall, but when they reached the photo of Joe and the drums, he
forced Joe to pause.

“Someday, you’re going to tell me the story behind this

picture,” he said.

The glance Joe cast back was at Fess, not the wall. “Someday.”

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

CHAPTER 6

Their third date eluded them.
Fess called Joe the next night with details from his audition,

babbling for minutes on end about the other actors who’d shown
up, the director who’d spent more time asking people to take off
their shirts than asking for line readings, how he thought he did
once he finally got around to his moment in front of the camera.
Joe had planned on asking Fess out to dinner, but they ran out of
time, and when he tried calling again the next morning, his call
went straight through to voice mail.

Days of classes made it difficult to connect beyond their

nightly conversations, but just as Joe worked up the nerve to try
asking again, he got a message from Fess, apologizing in advance
for not being able to call during Joe’s station breaks that night.

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“Gregory asked me to cover for him,” he said, regret in every
word. “He got a callback, and I owe him. I’ll call you tomorrow,
okay?”

Joe tried to tamp down his disappointment, but even Carlos

noticed something was wrong.

“Getting laid was supposed to make you happier, not turn you

into Grumpy Cat.” he complained.

Joe focused on sorting out his upcoming tracks rather than look

up to meet Carlos’s disapproval. “I am happier.”

“Oh, yeah? Tell that to Sadistic Tramp’s manager when he

calls me tomorrow to bitch about how you tore apart the same
show you wet yourself over a week ago.”

He did his best to improve his attitude for the rest of the show,

but when he spent five minutes ranting about a failed bill he had
known all along would get killed in committee, he realized he’d
failed. Miserably.

He avoided his phone for two days, turning it off and stuffing it

inside his backpack as he buried himself in statistical analysis at
the library. It was better that way, he told himself. He had been
placing too much importance on a relationship that really wasn’t
much more than friends with benefits. They both had lives outside
of a couple dates and some phone calls. It was healthier to
remember that and focus on what truly mattered to him, not obsess
over whether or not Fess had finally come to his senses and was
using work and auditions as an excuse not to see him again.

That didn’t mean he didn’t check for messages as soon as he

got home each night. The first time, his pulse leapt when he saw
Fess had followed through on his promise to call, but then it
crashed again as he listened to Fess talk about another audition
rather than asking about when they might see each other again.

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“I’m an idiot,” he said to Stacy when he called her to whine. “I

knew it was too good to be true.”

“Stop being silly,” she replied. “He called, didn’t he? He

wouldn’t have if he didn’t want to see you again.”

“He’s too nice to just walk away.”
She sighed. “He’s still a guy. If he wasn’t interested at all, you

would never have heard from him again. Trust me.”

He wanted to. She certainly had more experience than he did

when it came to dating. “What do I do?”

“Call him back.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because…I can’t.”
“Because you’re a big baby. Call him. It’s not like you two

haven’t been glued to your phones every night for the past six
weeks.”

He turned down her offer to come over with ice cream and get

lost in a Hemsworth brother movie marathon. Instead, he took a
nap until it was time to go into the station, hoping sleep would help
get his mind off Fess. It might’ve worked if he hadn’t dreamed
about that stupid coonskin cap again.

When he almost ran over Carlos at the station’s front door, he

held up a warning hand. “Don’t,” he growled. “I already know how
late I am.”

Carlos fell into step beside him, two steps for every one of

Joe’s to keep up. “This isn’t about that.”

“Even more reason for you not to bug me, then.”
“You say that now, but you’ll want to hear this.”
“Am I fired?”
“What? No, don’t be ridiculous.”

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“Is it going to change anything in the first half hour of the

show?”

“Only your bad attitude.”
“My attitude’s fine.”
“Oh, we are not going there again.”
He reached the booth and gave a little wave to Pixie, the

station’s afternoon/evening DJ, through the window. His real name
was Ralph, but the station manager at the time he’d been hired had
called him Pixie due to his short stature and the unfortunate haircut
he’d had, and the nickname stuck. As he passed to drop his stuff
off in the break room, the on-air sign flipped off and Pixie
scrambled for the door.

“I know, I’m late,” Joe said as he poked his head out. “Sorry

about that.”

Pixie grimaced and waved him off. “Only Carlos cares about

that. I want to know if your friend has a brother.”

“Huh?”
“Your friend. The one you can eat with a spoon.” He glanced

past Joe to Carlos. “What was his name? Help me out here.”

“Fess,” Carlos said.
Pixie snapped his fingers. “That’s the one. Makes me want to

go to confessional and get on my knees, you know what I mean?”

When Joe frowned down at Carlos, he rolled his eyes. “If you’d

let me finish what I was going to tell you, you’d know that
boyfriend dearest is waiting for you in the break room.”

“What’s he doing here?”
“Hopefully, giving you an attitude adjustment.”
As Joe double-timed his way to the break room, Pixie called

after him, “Let him know he can adjust me anytime!”

The break room was more of an open corner behind the CD

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

library rather than an actual closed off space. As Joe rounded the
last stack, he saw Fess standing at the sink, rinsing out the “Size
Matters” mug Carlos always commandeered. Chinese boxes were
lined up on the tiny table, and the scent of fresh coffee permeated
the air.

Fess turned around before Joe could say anything. His eyes lit

up when he spotted Joe hovering by the shelves. “I wasn’t sure
what you might want, so I got a couple of choices.” He gestured
with the empty mug toward the food. “Dig in. I know you have to
be on in five minutes, but you can take a plate into the booth with
you, right?”

Technically, no, but he didn’t care about station rules at the

moment. “Did I miss something?” Fuck, had he been agonizing for
nothing because he’d been too tired after the sex to remember
making plans? “I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

Fess filled the mug from the coffeepot, then reached for the box

of Splenda packets they kept on the counter. “No, this is my sad
attempt to try and make things up to you. I felt like an asshole
about being so busy since our date, so I thought I’d surprise you
with some dinner.” His brilliant smile faded as he realized Joe
hadn’t made a move closer. “You’re not mad, are you? I didn’t
want to get you in trouble for bringing it to the station, but I didn’t
want to bother you at home, either. I know you were swamped
with your school stuff.”

Of course, he did. Because at the gallery, when it’d just been

the two of them on the couch talking, Joe had told him about his
upcoming deadlines and how much work he’d put off on the
analysis aspect because he hated it so much.

Shame flooded through him. He’d jumped to the most awful

possible conclusion, and worse, acted like a baby by turning off his

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

phone. “I’m not mad,” he managed to get out. “I’m…” He couldn’t
say it. He was the asshole here, not Fess.

Fess set down the mug and came around the table. “But you

don’t exactly look thrilled I surprised you like this. Shit. I knew I
was coming on too strong.”

After days of wondering what he’d done to scare Fess away,

the idea that Fess would even consider such a notion made him
snort. “This isn’t too strong. This is thoughtful. Thank you.”

“Then why do you still look upset?”
“It’s not you.” He stopped himself before he added the hated

phrase, It’s me. Better to show Fess how grateful he was.

Dropping his pack to the floor, he took long strides to stand in

front of Fess as quickly as possible. Fess waited, eyes widening
with each step. He inhaled sharply when Joe cupped his face and
held him still while he kissed him.

Fess wrapped his arms around his waist as he opened up to the

caress, staying like that when Joe pulled away. “Man, I’ve missed
that,” he breathed.

Joe searched his face, but all he saw was sincerity. “So have I.

I’m sorry.”

“For what?”
“Overreacting.”
Fess tightened his embrace. “Hey, if it gets me a kiss like that,

you can overreact whenever you want to.”

He smiled. Lucky for him, Fess was oblivious to how much

practice Joe needed on the relationship front. Joe, on the other
hand, was not going to get caught out again by assigning
motivations to a man who had never been anything but upfront
with him.

“Do you have to go anywhere?” he asked.

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

“No, I’m done for the day. Why?”
“Want to see how I do the show?”
Fess brightened. “Will Carlos actually let me watch?”
“Carlos will be so glad I’m not biting his head off, he’d let you

be the DJ tonight if you wanted.”

“Haha, yeah, I don’t think so. I suck without a script.”
Joe found that hard to believe, but he wasn’t in the mood to

argue anymore. “If you stick around, I’ll make it up to you when
my shift is over.”

“Breakfast again?”
“In bed.”
With a slow smile, Fess let one hand creep downward to cup

Joe’s ass. “That’s the best deal I’ve ever been offered. Hell yeah.”

As Joe kissed him again to seal the arrangement, he silently

vowed to prove to Fess that it was only the first of many to come.

* * *

The microwave dinged as Joe flipped the last pancake.

Everything else was already laid out on the lap desk he was using
as a serving tray. All that was missing was the warmed syrup—
check—and Fess’s full plate.

Two pancakes later, that was a check, too.
“You only get this if you’re already in bed,” he called out.
He heard the springs squeak as Fess moved around, either just

getting on as Joe suspected or bouncing to let him know he’d
satisfied his end of the bargain. Balancing the desk as best he
could, he carried it to the bedroom, grateful Fess had left the door
open so he wouldn’t have to grow another arm to get inside.

Fess sat against the headboard, bare to the waist, the navy

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blanket covering his legs. “You realize for most people, breakfast
in bed is just a euphemism, right?” he teased.

Joe kept his eyes down so Fess’s gorgeous chest didn’t distract

him into tripping and ruining it all. “I’m not most people.”

“No, you definitely are not.” He watched with an expectant

smile as Joe set the desk in front of him. “Oh my God, you don’t
expect me to eat all that, do you?”

It wasn’t really all that much. Two pancakes with butter and

syrup, some frozen sausages he’d nuked, and a two-egg veggie
omelette. “You said you were hungry.”

“I’m going to be at the gym for hours working all that off.”
Settling on the edge of the bed, Joe reached for the fork. “Too

bad. I’m feeding you, you have to eat what I give you.”

Fess grinned. “Bossy. I like that.” His eyes widened as Joe cut

the side of the fork into the pancakes. “Wait, are you serious about
feeding me?”

He’d never been more serious in his life. As far as Joe was

concerned, he owed it to Fess to concentrate on him for a while
instead of the other way around.

Without speaking, he lifted the fork to Fess’s lips, waiting until

Fess opened to slide the food into his mouth. Fess chewed slowly,
all amusement gone, solemn and uncertain in the face of Joe’s
devotion. Joe dipped the next bite in the warmed syrup, but as he
fed it to Fess, a drip fell from the bottom of the fork and landed
near Fess’s nipple.

Fess swallowed. “This is going to get messy fast.”
“Then I’ll have to clean up as I go.” Leaning forward, he licked

the syrup away.

Though the touch didn’t linger, Fess gasped. “Okay, that’s not

fair.” He sounded breathless. When Joe straightened, he noticed his

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

eyes had gone dark with desire. “You’re getting all the fun here.”

“You’re getting the food and the attention. Seems like it’s the

other way around to me.”

“I could feed you, too.”
Joe shook his head. “No, I’m getting everything I want with

this arrangement.”

Every subsequent bite, he ensured something fell onto Fess’s

exposed skin. Crumbs on his belly. Syrup on his chest. A piece of
egg at the corner of his mouth. Each one, he cleaned up, taking
longer and longer to withdraw as the food disappeared.

By the time the plate was empty, Fess was panting. “Get this

damn desk off.”

“Now who’s bossy?”
But he obliged, only to find a telltale bulge where Fess’s

erection had been trapped for the duration of the meal.

“There’re other ways for you to work off some calories, you

know.” Though it killed him to move away, Joe stood and began
undressing, ignoring the way Fess was devouring him with his
eyes. “So I’ll give you a choice. Ride me or roll over.”

Fess swallowed. “I can’t throw in a third option there?”
“Not if it means you’re not getting fucked.”
“God no. I’ve wanted that for forever. I just…”
It wasn’t like Fess not to be able to articulate what he was

thinking. Joe finished stripping out of his clothes before
prompting, “Just what?”

“I want to see you.” The words came out in a rush of air. When

Joe looked back, Fess had gone pink. “I want to be on my back.”

He made it sound like it was a weird request. “Okay,” Joe

assured. Grabbing the edge of the blanket, he pulled it back and
crawled between Fess’s legs. Fess scooched down to stretch out

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

beneath him, his heel running up and down the length of Joe’s calf,
but Joe was too transfixed by the soft set of Fess’s mouth to notice
it much. “Have I mentioned how glad I am that you showed up at
the station?”

“Maybe.”
His breath smelled sweet, tempting Joe into stealing another

kiss. “What about how much I missed you the past few weeks?”

The tip of his tongue appeared, sweeping across his lower lip.

It took all of Joe’s resolve not to capture it and suck it into his
mouth. “Even though you were so busy?”

“Yeah,” Joe admitted. “If you knew some of the stupid things I

was thinking…”

“Like what?”
Joe shook his head. “You don’t want to hear that.”
Curling his arms around Joe’s back, Fess pulled him down until

their chests touched each other and their cocks were aligned. “You
can’t scare me away.”

“Somehow, I doubt that.”
“Stop it.” The admonition came out more sharply than his

previous words. “Seriously. What’s it going to take for you to see
yourself like I do?”

“Time,” he replied honestly. “And probably a lot of patience

from you.”

“I can give you both, but none of it will mean anything if you

don’t accept them.”

“I’m trying.”
“Do you want this to work?”
Closing his eyes, Joe rested his brow against Fess’s, absorbing

the soft rhythm of his breath. “More than anything.”

“Then you have to believe me.”

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He kissed Joe then, taking the initiative when he probably

knew how overwhelmed Joe was feeling. Though he was the one
on top, Joe let him guide the way, his lungs hitching as Fess ran his
hands up and down his back. His arms quivered. The strength he’d
managed to hold onto evaporated with the force of Fess’s fight for
him.

The kisses lasted for long minutes, neither one of them in a

hurry to lose the intimacy yet to take it to the next step. It took the
coil of Fess’s leg around his, in a motion that ground their balls
together, for Joe to decide he needed more.

Dropping his head, he sucked for a moment at the sweaty sinew

of Fess’s neck as he nudged his knee upward to prod Fess’s thighs
farther open. He would have to lift up eventually, but for now, he
continued the wet path down, down, down, over ridged muscle,
dipping the tip of his tongue into Fess’s navel. When his beard
brushed the wet tip of Fess’s cock, Fess cried out, his hips jerking
into the air in search of harder contact.

As tempting as it was to blow Fess, however, Joe had another

goal in mind. He bypassed Fess’s groin, settling for a single bite to
the join where inner thigh met hip, and pushed up on the back of
Fess’s legs to expose his ass.

Fess scrabbled at the sheets, trying to stay where he was, but

his hole kept clenching and unclenching, visible proof of his
excitement. Joe’s mouth watered.

“There was a reason I didn’t fix any food for me.” Bracing

Fess’s body with one hand, Joe ran his finger down his spread
crack and over his opening. “I was planning on eating this the
whole time.”

Fess moaned. His ass tightened beneath Joe’s touch.
He began with a single lick, starting beneath his hole and

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

dragging his tongue upward. His nose nudged against Fess’s sac
when he was done, and he took a moment to grind into it, inhaling
the musky scent as he rubbed his beard against Fess’s sensitive
skin.

Fess squirmed against his face. “Fuck, but I love it when you

do that.”

That was one detail Joe had figured out on their second date.

Fess went wild the moment Joe’s face touched anywhere on his
body. With these kind of responses, he was never going to shave
his beard off again.

His world narrowed down to Fess’s ass. On the third pass over

the opening, he stopped to trace the muscle, groaning as it flexed
against his tongue. Fess would be tight when he finally got to fuck
him, but the best way to know just how tight was to test it
beforehand.

The first probe was almost delicate, only an inch inside before

Joe pulled out again. When Joe blew a steady stream of air across
the muscle to watch it twitch, Fess pushed against his grip, trying
to get Joe’s mouth back on him.

“Please,” he begged.
Joe’s cock throbbed. “My pleasure,” he muttered and dived

back in, all niceties tossed aside as he fucked his tongue in and out
of Fess’s ass.

A steady stream of sounds came from Fess, most incoherent, all

going straight to Joe’s dick. His hands shook when he decided he
couldn’t take it anymore, easing Fess back to the mattress as he
stretched to reach for the nightstand.

Fess knocked him off-balance by launching straight at him.

They crumpled to the bed in a frenzy of arms and legs, mouths and
tongues, hands groping for each other’s body. When Fess

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

scratched, Joe shivered. Where Joe bit, Fess moaned. It all became
a blur until he pressed Fess back to the bed, but then reality set
back in and he groped blindly for the condoms and lube.

Somehow, they managed to get Joe sheathed. Getting Fess

slicked up beyond spit, however, was another matter entirely.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Joe growled in frustration.
Fess smiled, beatific and glowing. With a wink, he scooped up

the lube where it had fallen to the bed and flipped open the cap
with his thumb. Joe peeled away, expecting Fess to drip it onto his
ass, but Fess stopped him from going too far by catching hold of
the base of his cock.

“Say when.”
Thank God for the condom. Even through it, Fess’s hand was

too hot, and the way it slicked up and down his length as he spread
the lube around made promises about what was to come. Oil
dribbled onto Fess’s stomach, pooling with the pre-come that
already made his skin glisten. Joe waited as long as he could until
he absolutely had to knock Fess’s fingers out of the way, push up
his legs, and line up his cock.

If he’d had any rational thought left, he would’ve taken it slow,

given Fess time to adjust as he eased inside. Fess had obliterated
that, however, and Joe thrust harder than he’d intended, sinking
several inches on the first drive forward.

Fess cried out, but when Joe paused, he tugged at Joe’s hips.

“Don’t you dare think of stopping,” he warned.

The only permission he needed. On the next stroke, Joe’s balls

slapped against Fess’s ass.

He’d been wrong. Fess was even tighter than he’d thought. Joe

dropped to his elbows, almost completely covering Fess’s body,
and gulped huge breaths as he struggled to find some measure of

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

control.

He didn’t remember fucking being this intense before. As he

began to rock in and out of Fess’s passage, the room whited out
around them, erased from existence so they were the only
occupants of his world. He heard his voice, saw Fess’s wide eyes
lock on his, but he wasn’t even sure what he said, if it was crass or
caring, coherent or not. Every once in a while, he bowed to brush
his lips across Fess’s, but always, he came back up again, too
needy to see the man beneath him.

When Fess stiffened, arching away from the bed, Joe faltered.

A moment later, Fess clamped down around his cock, every
muscle in his body tensing. Warm fluid smeared across their
stomachs, and it took Joe a breath to realize Fess had come without
ever touching his prick.

That might’ve been the hottest thing Joe had ever experienced.

As soon as Fess began to relax, he fucked him even harder.

He didn’t really stand much of a chance at lasting after that.
He came with a shout, then buried his face in Fess’s neck as his

whole body tried to crawl into Fess’s. “That’s right,” he heard Fess
croon. “Give it to me.” Joe managed a few more thrusts before his
arms gave out, and he collapsed against Fess, his lips moving
endlessly across his sweaty skin.

“You undo me,” Joe whispered.
Fess clung to Joe. “That’s funny,” he whispered back.

“Because you always make me feel like I can do anything.”

The confession was raw and real. Joe breathed him in and

prayed he never did anything to take that feeling away from Fess.
“Please tell me you don’t have any auditions today.”

“None. I’m all yours.”
Somehow, Joe believed that was completely real, too.

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

CHAPTER 7

Though he didn’t get the independent movie he wanted so

badly, Fess did land another audition, an original play, the role of a
nineteenth century dandy who ruined his lover’s life by exposing
their forbidden affair. It meant perfecting his English accent and
spending the show either mostly nude or sweltering in ruffles and
velvet, but it was the richest part he’d got since moving to
Chicago, and he couldn’t have been more excited.

Joe insisted on celebrating by taking him out to Grace. When

Natalie heard, her eyes bugged out.

“Do you have any idea how expensive that place is?” she

asked.

He didn’t until they showed up. By then, it was too late but to

accept graciously and appreciate each bite of the amazing menu.

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

The staff treated them like kings, and though the restaurant was
full, their table against the wall was cozy and private, helping both
of them relax enough to savor the night.

That was the first night Joe spent at Fess’s apartment. Needless

to say, Fess never wanted the date to end.

There was a downside to getting the play, however. For the

first time since they’d met, Fess had a full schedule. Rehearsals for
four hours every night, which meant he could only take stripping
jobs during the day. It also meant less time he could spend with
Joe. He spent the first week wound tighter than Cameron from
Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, worrying Joe would see the time apart as
the beginning of the end of their budding relationship.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.
Once he gave Joe a copy of his schedule as he requested, Joe

seemed to loosen up. He was always glad to hear from Fess, and
on those occasions when he didn’t answer Fess’s calls, he rang
back within hours, always with a reason why he hadn’t been
available. He even took the initiative to surprise Fess on the days
when he got a break. A picnic at the Osaka Garden. Garfield
Conservatory. A lecture at Loyola on medieval food culture.

The best, however, were the nights Joe didn’t work. Because

on those nights, Fess went straight to Joe’s apartment after
rehearsal and spent the rest of the evening curled up on the couch
with him, watching whatever caught their eye on TV. On Fess’s
list of favorite things, falling asleep on Joe’s shoulder ranked only
below getting woken up and guided drowsily into the bedroom
where Joe would spoon behind him until he fell asleep again.

Six weeks passed like that, each one better than the last. Then it

was opening night, and all he’d been able to think about for days
was whether he was going to blow it. The only thing he didn’t

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

worry about was nailing the accent. Between drowning in British
entertainment and Joe’s uncanny knack for being able to recreate
what he heard—and didn’t that get Natalie started up on the whole
Alan Rickman comparison all over again—Fess could slip in and
out of the accent without missing a beat.

When he arrived, he found flowers in the dressing room

waiting for him, a bouquet of multi-colored roses with a note that
simply said, “Break a leg. —Joe.” He smiled, running his finger up
and down along the edge of the card. Knowing Joe would be in the
audience was all he needed, quelling the last of Fess’s nerves.

Though there was a moment of panic when the cuff of his coat

snagged on a potted plant and Fess was convinced he would have
to carry the damn thing around for the rest of the show, the
performance went well, ending in a torrent of applause, and friends
and family on their feet. Fess felt like his face was going to break
from all the smiling throughout the curtain call. As he bowed, his
gaze zeroed in on Joe in the second row with his fingers in his
mouth as he whistled approval. He hadn’t come alone. Natalie and
Maren, as well as Carlos and Pixie, sat around him.

But all Fess saw was the man he loved, lauding Fess and his

achievements as if they were greatest thing in the world.

He was in the dressing room, hanging up his jacket for the

costume department to clean for the next performance, when the
stage manager poked her head in and announced he had visitors.
He scurried out, uncaring of the rest of his costume, and was
immediately swept into an embrace by a very familiar set of arms.

“You were wonderful!”
“What a great show!”
“They should’ve saved themselves the money and just left you

in those breeches for the whole thing. Because, boy? Yum.”

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

The last came from Pixie, and everyone laughed. Fess tilted his

head up to Joe’s as he nestled into his boyfriend’s side. “So was it
worth putting up with all those rehearsals?”

Joe smiled. “Absolutely.”
“Excuse me.”
The group broke apart to reveal a small woman standing behind

them. Though she looked familiar, it took Fess several seconds to
figure out why.

“Hi,” he said, more than a little confused. He stepped forward

to be polite and held out his hand. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember
your name.”

“Donna Hinman.”
Fess angled sideways so he could include the others. “Guys,

this was the director on that indie movie I auditioned for a couple
months ago.”

“You mean, the one you didn’t get?” Natalie commented with a

cocked brow.

Donna blushed. “That wasn’t my doing, I can assure you. Fess

was my first choice, but our biggest backer leans so hard to the
right, he’d topple over if you blew on him.” Her apologetic gaze
returned to Fess. “He Googled everybody I wanted to cast. It
wasn’t just you I had to compromise on.”

Maren’s turn. “What could he possibly have found on Fess?”
“The stripping thing. Not that I care how an actor pays his bills,

but, well, my producer didn’t see it that way.”

“But I use a stage name,” Fess said. It was nice to know he

could’ve had the part, but he’d done everything he could to keep
the stripping separate from his acting.

“Someone had pictures up on Facebook from their bachelorette

party with your real name attached.” Donna shrugged. “That’s all I

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

know. I’m sorry. But anyway, when I saw you were doing a play
now, I knew I had to come down and talk to you. I have a friend
who’s doing the Chicago casting for a new Daniel Craig project,
and since you don’t have an agent, I thought I’d forward your
headshot and resumé to him so you could get an audition.” She
smiled. “It’s not much, but it’ll help me feel less guilty for having
an asshole producer.”

She had nothing to feel guilty about—he knew it was part of

the business—but the opportunity was too good to be the bigger
man about and pass up. “I’d love that, thank you.”

“I hope you told your producer what a mistake he was

making.”

Nobody was more surprised that Joe had spoken up than Fess.

As chatty as he was on the air or with people he knew, he still
didn’t like idle chitchat with strangers.

“You must not be in the business,” she said with a laugh. “You

don’t talk back to the guys with the money except to say thank
you.”

“Except it could’ve been in his financial interests to hire Fess,”

Joe continued, unfazed. “Being a stripper certainly hasn’t hurt
Channing Tatum’s career.”

Natalie and Maren bit back smiles, while Carlos turned away

with a mild coughing fit. Donna regarded Joe in shrewd
assessment before turning back to Fess.

“You need to hire your boyfriend as your agent,” she said.
Laughing, Fess leaned back against Joe’s chest. A warm burn

spread through his body as Joe curled his arm around Fess’s waist.
“Thanks again for the offer. I really appreciate it.”

“The least I could do. With that face and body, it’s a shame you

aren’t getting the exposure you should.”

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

“Not to mention, he can actually act,” Joe said.
Her smile widened. “That, too.”
The others crowded back around him after she left, chattering

on and on about the good news. But when Joe bent to his ear to ask
when they could get out of there for their private celebration, Fess
went deaf to their adulation.

“I should finish changing,” he said.
Pixie winked at him. “You ever need a personal dresser, you

know where to find me.”

When he emerged again, the only one left was Joe. Silently, he

took Joe’s offered hand and followed him out to the car.

At Joe’s apartment, Joe left the car idling after he’d parked. As

Fess opened his mouth to ask what was going on, Joe turned on the
radio. Pixie’s voice came from the speakers.

“He got back to work quick,” Fess said with a laugh. “I didn’t

know he was covering for you tonight.”

“He’s doing me a favor. Listen.”
“Seriously, guys, if you only see one play this year, go see this

one.” Pixie’s endorsement was heartwarming, but he could tell
from the way Joe watched the radio, that wasn’t what he wanted
Fess to hear. “The lead is hot, hot, hot, and guess what? You’d be
supporting one of our finest. How, do you ask? Well, Mr.
Hotpants—and honey, after you see the show, you will know that I
am not exaggerating there—is the main squeeze of our very own
Joe Salinas. Like I needed even more reason to be jealous of Joe,
right?”

Joe snorted and rolled his eyes.
“Now, I’m already doing Joe a favor by filling in for him so he

and the boy can have some good old-fashioned quality time
together, but I’ve got another one that means he’s going to owe

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

me. So, Joe? Find me my own Mr. Hotpants and we’ll call it even.
With that out of the way, here’s Joe.”

Curious, Fess glanced at Joe, but he was still fixed on the radio.

A moment later, it was Joe’s voice that filled the car.

“For all the talking I do around here, I haven’t mentioned a

very big part of my life. There’s a reason for that. Frankly, I kept
expecting him to figure out he could do so much better than me
and move on.” Fess opened his mouth to argue, but then snapped it
shut again when Joe on the radio said, “Fess, just hear me out first.
If you want, you can tell me I’m full of crap after I’m done.”

He might not be able to say anything yet, but a disembodied

Joe couldn’t stop him from reaching out and entwining his fingers
with his real-life Joe’s.

“That’s his name, by the way. Like Fess Parker, the old guy

who used to play Davy Crockett on TV. The way we met, well,
let’s say it was memorable and leave it at that. Tonight was his first
big opening night since we started dating, and I wanted to do
something special for him, something he’d always remember,
something that would show him not just how proud I am, but what
he means to me. My first ideas sucked. I mean, really sucked.
Completely lacking in any kind of originality. So because I was
desperate, I got online and looked up stuff about Davy Crockett,
thinking maybe I’d find something to inspire me. And I did.

“Davy Crockett said something once that basically boiled down

to, ‘Let your tongue speak what your heart thinks.’ Anybody who
knows Fess knows he’s about the most open, genuine guy you
could ever imagine. Part of the reason he’s such a good actor is
that he shows you everything he’s feeling. I’m not like that. I have
a bad habit of locking it all away so I don’t get hurt. Fess tells me
all the time to stop thinking so much, and he’s right to a degree.

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

But the thing is, I can’t turn off what my heart thinks. I just do
what I can to show it rather than say it. I’d like to think that Fess
knows how I feel about him because I work to prove it to him all
the time, but I know he still wonders. He’s got to. I would if I were
him.

“So tonight, I’m taking Davy’s advice. I’m saying it out loud. I

could’ve done this in person after the show, and I still might, but I
want Fess to see how much I really mean it. I’m going to say this
so all of you can hear it, too. Nobody knows better than Fess how
much I hate exposing myself like this.” Joe-on-the-air took a deep
breath. “I love you, Fess. I’d say I don’t know how you made it
happen, but that’d be a lie. You did it just by being you. By never
giving up. By thinking I’m someone worth fighting for. By making
me smile and laugh on a daily basis. I always thought my life
wasn’t bad before you came along, but you showed me exactly
what I was missing. Pretty much everything.”

Pixie’s laughter cut in on the broadcast. “I can tell you what

everything means, but then Joe would hang my nuts in a sling, and
I like them where they are, thank you very much. Though if Mr.
Hotpants were interested in—”

Fess turned off the radio. “You didn’t have to do that.”
Joe dropped his gaze to their locked fingers. His thumb

caressed the side of Fess’s hand. “Yeah, I did. Showing you isn’t
always enough. You deserve to have the words, too.”

This night had already been one of the best of Fess’s life. Joe’s

declaration pretty much sealed the deal.

Fess launched himself across the parking brake, frenzied kisses

winning out over words. Joe grappled to try and get a good hold of
him, but by the time Fess pulled back, he was laughing.

“I guess I did good,” he said.

WHAT THE HEART THINKS

“You did great.” Fess touched Joe’s swollen lips. “I love you,

too, you know. Almost since I met you.”

Even in the dark parking lot, he could see Joe’s eyes twinkling.

“So I really did fall in love with a stalker,” he teased. “Don’t tell
Carlos, though. He’ll never let me live it down.”

Fess matched his smile. “It’ll be our little secret.”
“As long as we’re sharing secrets…”
“You have another one? About what?”
“Davy Cockett and a certain coonskin cap.”
“You want me to give you a private show?”
“Yeah. And maybe…I’ll wear it, too.”
And they did.

IVIEN

EAN

Three-time EPPIE winner Vivien Dean is a firm believer that love
doesn’t care about gender, so her titles include both Het and
GLBT, erotic and sweet, as well as a wide variety of genres.

In 2006, Vivien teamed up with fellow erotic romance writer,
Pepper Espinoza. Together, they wrote as Jamie Craig for five
years.

Vivien currently resides in northern California with her British
husband and two children.

For more information about Vivien and her books, visit her
website at:

http://www.viviendean.com

* * *

Don’t miss Wranglers: Discovery

by Vivien Dean,

available at AmberAllure.com!

Derek Rossi is used to being one of the best young lawyers in San
Francisco…until he loses a case to his legal rival, the sexy and
irrepressible Sam Kimball. The passionate, two-month-long court

battle has left Derek frustrated, angry, and ready to take it out on
Sam. But when Sam surprises him with a kiss, Derek has
absolutely no idea what to do. All he knows is his preoccupation
with the other lawyer now includes more than wrangling in the
courtroom with him.

The only problem is, Sam honors Derek’s request to leave him
alone. Derek thought that was what he wanted.

But now, with memories of the kiss consuming him, Derek doesn’t
know what he wants at all anymore…

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