They shared their first-date meal on his back porch, Brantley carrying most of the conversation. It was obvious Reese was uncomfortable, but why, Brantley wasn’t entirely sure. Could’ve been because he’d panicked at the restaurant, or because Brantley had taken the lead and made the decision for them to leave. Since it was over and done, he didn’t want to dwell on it.
When they were finished, Brantley took the dishes inside, grabbed a couple more beers, and rejoined Reese.
“I’m sorry about how I reacted,” Reese began.
“There’s nothin’ to apologize for.”
“That’s not true and you know it.”
Brantley exhaled his frustration, leaned back in his chair. “If you spend all your time apologizin’, this isn’t gonna work.”
That seemed to shut Reese up.
“So intimate steakhouse dinners aren’t your thing. That’s fine. You live and learn, Reese. Next time we’ll try my idea. Sports bar. Tex-Mex. There’s always somewhere we can go where you won’t feel out of place.”
“I was gonna take you to the gun range after.”
He grinned. “Yeah? You romantic, you.”
Reese chuckled, although there was still an edge to it. “I suck at this.”
“There’s nothin’ to suck at, Reese. Do you wanna be with me?”
“Yes. More than anything.”
“Then it’s just a matter of figurin’ out where we fit in.”
“You didn’t seem to mind the restaurant.”
“I was there for the food,” he admitted. “And the company. I couldn’t give a shit less what other people think of me. And no, I don’t go around flauntin’ the fact I’m gay. I don’t feel the need to hold your hand in public to assure myself we’re together. If I want to hold your hand, it’s because I want to touch you. But I wouldn’t do that to you, Reese. I wouldn’t put you in that position.”
“I feel like I’m fuckin’ this all up.”
Brantley stared out into the night. No amount of words was going to reassure Reese. He had it in his head that this was more difficult than it really was. Unfortunately, Brantley’s gut told him things weren’t going to get any easier for a while. The only thing he knew to do was give Reese space.
“You deserve better than that,” Reese whispered.
Brantley jerked his gaze to Reese, held his breath because that sounded a hell of a lot like Reese walking away.
“I want to be those things for you, Brantley. The guy who can take you out, meet your folks, hang out with your friends. I’m not sure I can do that.” Reese exhaled. “Try as I might, I can’t wrap my head around this. Bein’ attracted to you, wantin’ to be with you … none of it makes sense. I’m straight, Brantley.”
Technically, he wasn’t, but Brantley didn’t feel the need to point that out.
“I don’t know what I want,” Reese continued. “I thought I did. When I’m with you, it’s easy. Or I thought it was. Then tonight happened…”
There was a boulder sitting on his chest, but Brantley breathed through it.
“Maybe it’s best we take a step back,” Reese said softly.
“Maybe.” There was no conviction behind his agreement, but he figured Reese had made up his mind, so it didn’t really matter.
It didn’t surprise him when Reese pushed back his chair, got to his feet. Brantley stared out into the night, refusing to look at him. If Reese wanted this, there wasn’t a damn thing Brantley could do. He would suck it up, let him walk away. Wasn’t like he could sweet-talk the guy.
Truth was, he didn’t want to.
Brantley did not want to be the guy groveling, begging. He refused to do it. Reese would either be with him or he wouldn’t.
His choice.
Chapter Seven
“All right, what’s wrong?” Trey asked, his lips puckered like a fish, eyes squinted as though this would help him see into Brantley’s soul.
“Nothin’,” Brantley answered easily. “What’s wrong with you?”
Trey’s chin dipped down, eyes narrowing even more. “Liar.”
Brantley chuckled, forcing a lightness he didn’t feel. Last thing he intended to do was to tell Trey about Reese, about how their date last night had come to a tragic end. That wasn’t the reason he’d invited his brother out tonight. Okay, maybe not entirely true. Reese was part of the reason Brantley was here at Moonshiners. This was his way of pretending the man didn’t exist, that last night hadn’t happened, that his whole fucking world hadn’t been upended in a matter of hours.
Nope.
Not thinking about that.
Brantley grabbed a handful of peanuts, tossed them back, reached for his beer. “If you do insist on starin’ at me like that, I will have to leave.”
Trey leaned back, schooled his expression. “How’s the governor gig goin’?”
“Eh. It’s underway. We’re workin’ on a case.”
“Lauren Tyler,” Trey noted. “The girl who went missin’ from here.”
“Yeah.” Brantley took a long pull on his beer. “How’d you know?”
“Saw the whiteboard in the barn.”
“Why were you in my barn?”
