“Sounds reasonable.” Mindful of another single man who would eventually be arriving, Darian waited to see if Aubrey would mention his own relationship status, but he didn’t.

  Aubrey laughed. “Enticing, I hope, for the sake of my business.”

  Their cabin was clean, sparse in an appealing way, with a sitting room and spacious bedroom. To Darian’s relief, it wasn’t furnished with bunk beds, but rather a soft-looking king-sized bed with a fluffy comforter decorated with a pine-cone motif. A pair of sliding glass doors faced the woods, though nothing was visible beyond a screen of enormous pine trees.

  Next, Aubrey showed them a modern bathroom with a spacious glassed-in shower and a serviceable kitchenette.

  “Meals are in the main lodge, communal style, but you’re welcome to keep snacks and make coffee or tea in here if you want to. Just clean up when you’re done, since there’s no maid service here. I stocked the mini-fridge with creamer and bottled water. There’s a little store about forty miles up the road if you want to stock up on stuff and haul it back.”

  “Yeah,” Argo said, scowling. “We ran across that place.”

  Aubrey shrugged but didn’t react. “You can buy wine and beer in town, too. I don’t have any restrictions on alcohol in the cabins, though I don’t serve it in the lodge in case any guests are struggling with addictions or in recovery. I ask that everyone be respectful of their well-being while in public spaces.”

  Darian nodded. “We’re fine with that.”

  “Figured you would be. You don’t look like troublemakers. Okay, let’s go meet Hammond. You’re probably eager, but I need to warn you. If you’re a fan, I hope he doesn’t disappoint you.”

  Darian and Argo exchanged raised brows as Aubrey led them back outside. Aubrey had already hinted that he wasn’t crazy about Hammond’s husband, whoever he was. Did Aubrey dislike Hammond, too?

  They walked over to the next cabin, and Aubrey knocked. The door swung open almost immediately. Darian recognized Hammond right away, though his hair was whiter, longer, and curlier than in the author photos he’d seen from the nineties. He still wore the same Fu Manchu-style moustache as on his book jacket photo. His watery blue eyes widened briefly as he took in the sight of his three visitors. He seemed to focus his attention slowly as Aubrey explained who they were.

  “Oh, right. Angela Winter’s boy.” Hammond shook Darian’s hand. “Couldn’t believe it when I heard from her again after all these years. Welcome aboard. I’ll try not to run you too ragged this week.”

  “No worries,” Darian assured him. “I’m looking forward to some hard work during the writing sessions. I’m sure I can learn a lot from you.”

  “I should think so, yes,” Hammond said, his manner suddenly lofty. Next, he scanned Argo up and down. “You’re the boyfriend Angela mentioned? Not quite what I expected, I admit. You don’t look like a private school teacher.”

  “Nope. I definitely don’t,” Argo said, clearly amused.

  “Are you going to ask us in, Hammond?” Aubrey prompted.

  “Oh. Right. Yes, of course.” Slightly unsteady on his feet, Hammond moved aside and motioned them through the door. This cabin was laid out exactly the same way his and Argo’s was, though the sliding glass doors faced the woods at a different angle. “Can I offer you boys a drink? I was just about to open a fresh bottle of Scotch. Brought our own with us. Can never trust the swill they stock in some of these local bodegas.”

  Just then they heard an interior door open, and a man stepped out of the bedroom. This, Darian assumed, was the husband. He was a decade or so younger than Hammond, and strikingly handsome. Blond and lean, he could have been a model for one of Hammond’s sexier book covers.

  Hammond brightened at the sight of him, and Darian could see why. Charm radiated off him like heat, filling the room with his presence.

  “My husband, Cole Dalton,” Hammond confirmed. “Darian is the English teacher I told you about. He’ll be one of the two who are moderating for me.”

  “Yes, I remember. Hammy knew your mother way back when. Some kind of gay writers’ conference.” Cole stuck out his hand. “Glad you agreed to sign on. Hammy doesn’t like to admit it, but he’s so painfully shy that these kinds of events are difficult for him. He’s going to need all the help you can give him when it comes to facing a crowd. Even if they do all adore him.”

  “It’s my book they adore, not me,” Hammond groused.

  “I was wondering about the other instructor,” Darian said. “I don’t know who he is yet.”

  “Moderator,” Cole corrected. “Our goal is to avoid academic jargon at this event. Too many guys have traumatic memories of school and tyrannical English teachers. No offense intended.”

  “None taken,” Darian assured him. “In fact, Argo told me the same thing this morning, though apparently the desks, and not the teachers, made him run screaming.”

  “Got that right. Not enough room underneath for my legs,” Argo quipped.

  “Your fellow moderator’s name is Kaz,” Cole said. “He just texted to say he’ll be here in about an hour. So you’ll meet him soon.”

  “The rest are coming tomorrow,” Hammond slurred. “The writers, I mean. Hoi polloi. The Great Unwashed. Whatever you want to call them.”

  “Why don’t you go lie down until Kaz gets here?” Aubrey suggested, glaring at Hammond. “I’ll call you when lunch is ready. You’ll enjoy it more if you rest a while first. Meanwhile, Darian and Argo can unpack.”

  Everyone agreed on the plan, with Hammond more than willing to stagger off to his bedroom. Cole didn’t go with him, and he didn’t accompany Aubrey, Darian, and Argo back to the porch stairs. When Darian glanced back, he saw that Cole’s head was turned to one side, his gaze fixed on a framed landscape photo hanging nearby. Darian belatedly realized he was checking out his own appearance in the glass.

  Darian and Argo arrived back at the main building before Hammond and Cole, prompting Aubrey to invite them into his office before lunch. To get there, they walked down a short hall and passed a large open room resembling a gymnasium. This, Aubrey told them, would be the center of activity for the writing workshop.

  “My handyman, Greg, will be putting out folding tables and chairs later today,” he said, gesturing as they passed. “In the evening, we can rearrange them for dinner and cards or whatever, or even push them aside if guys want to turn it into a dance floor. I figure they’ll prefer to spend as much time as possible outside, though. That’s the whole point of a campground, after all.”

  “Good idea,” Argo said, though Darian knew he wasn’t likely to take part in any impromptu recreations of the disco era. “Seems like you’ve got plenty of space here for most anything.”

  “It’s been a challenge to get this place up and functioning, I’ll admit,” Aubrey said gruffly. “That room was a basketball court before I had the floors stripped and redone. Generations of kids running amuck had done a number on the wood, let me tell you. Things are coming along, though.”

  They reached Aubrey’s office door and waited for him to unlock it. Darian and Argo accompanied him into a narrow room where every flat surface held stacks of papers and files. Old framed pictures, rustic scenes of leaping trout and prowling bears, covered the paneled walls. The décor clearly dated from before Darian’s birth. Heck, it probably dated from before his moms’ childhoods.

  Aubrey motioned them into seats facing the desk and settled behind it himself. “Darian, since you’ll be a lodge employee for the week, got a few forms for you to fill out. Have to satisfy the good old government grab. While he’s doing that, Argo can take care of the registration. Jot down a next of kin, people to notify in case of unexpected dismemberment or other serious grievous bodily harm, that kind of thing.”

  “Yikes. I was hoping we wouldn’t need to worry about anything more painful than a paper cut this week,” Argo joked. But Aubrey only shrugged.

  “Have to cover all bases,” he said.

  For a few minutes they said nothing more than what was necessary to complete the forms. Argo finished first and sat staring at the walls and pictures.

  “Great idea to turn an old summer camp into a playground for adults,” he said. “Are you planning to stay open year round?”

  “That was my original plan. In the winter, I figured, we could have cross country skiing, snowboarding, et cetera. Turned out to be a little tougher than I expected, though.”

  “These old buildings must be hard to heat and insulate,” Darian said, suppressing a shiver. Freezing his extremities off certainly wasn’t his idea of a fun getaway, and he fervently hoped it wasn’t Argo’s either.

  “That’s only part of the problem. Energy costs, permits, safety. You have no idea the hoops I’ve had to jump through to certify this joint for legal public occupancy. You’d almost think the powers that be in the town hall don’t want a bunch of gay guys camping out near them. Do they think we’re going to surround them on skis and forcibly convert them? They only wish they were so physically appealing.” Aubrey snorted. “No worries, though. The renovations are still on my agenda. The timeline just got pushed back a bit.”

  “We saw you were building a hot tub out front,” Argo said. “I suppose it won’t be operational for a while?”

  “Yep. At least in that case, I don’t need a permit. Just enough pairs of hands to get the work done.”

  “How many staff members do you have?” Darian asked.

  “Not counting you and Kaz, and Hammond, if you want to call him an employee, it’s just me and Greg Hodge. Greg’s a good guy. Got his mechanical training in the military. He loves this place and believes in it. If only there were more guys like him around. There’s only so much he and I can accomplish, though. No one else will come to work here because they’re afraid of the townies.” Frustrated, he rapped his knuckles on the wooden desk. “Let me tell you something. Before I came here, I managed gay bars in four major cities, scattered in every corner of this country. I never had the kind of hassle and resistance I found up here. Never saw it coming, I admit. Still, I’ll work it out eventually.”

  “Sorry to hear that,” said Argo.

  “I’d almost have been better off to start a bar in the first place.”

  “Any reason you didn’t?”

  “Thought about it. I’d started a bunch of them and I know how to do it and make it profitable. The campground was a challenge, and I’ve always been up for one of those. Also, this seemed like a place I could live. The isolation appealed to me, especially after living in so many cities. I get tired of my fellow man, you know?”

  “I sure do,” Argo agreed.

  “I even looked forward to spending the winter out here, though lately I’ve been rethinking my plan. Now I’m leaning toward a sunnier environment. At least for January and February. No snowboarding camp this year, I’m afraid.”

  At that point they heard Cole shouting down the hall.

  “Hey! Where are you guys? Are we eating lunch or not? Better get out here before Hammy and I turn to bones!”

  “On our way,” Aubrey yelled back. “Actually, I’m thinking it might not be a bad idea to head for a warmer climate—or any kind of climate, really—within the next few days. A whole week of those two is going to try my patience.” He shook his shaggy head in exasperation. “And I’m putting it mildly. Look, I’m all for guys finding true love and creating happy marriages. But the more lovey dovey husbands I see staying here, the happier I am to be single, and the more determined I am to stay that way.”

  “Yoo hoo!” Cole cried again. “Are you three coming or not?”

  Chapter 3

  The lodge kitchen proved thankfully more modern, not to mention a good deal larger, than Aubrey’s office. When they walked in, Cole was hovering over a stainless steel table stocked with a sandwich platter, an enormous bowl of salad, and a pitcher of iced tea. Hammond was seated in a chair in the corner, clearly working hard to stay upright.

  “I told him not to bother setting the table,” he said, waving one hand in a helpless gesture. “He insisted.”

  “Why not?” Cole retorted between laying out plates, silverware, and cloth napkins. “Just because we’re in the woods doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy a civilized meal. Aubrey, do you have anything decent we can drink from? These paper cups will do for the tea, but Hammy and I brought a nice bottle of wine from our cabin. We planned to sample it this evening, but no worries. We have more than one, after all, and wine was made to share with friends. Don’t you agree, love?”

  “Fine with me,” Hammond mumbled, though he looked less than happy when Aubrey opened a cupboard and somewhat resentfully handed over five fluted glasses.

  “I searched for a tablecloth, but I couldn’t find one anywhere,” Cole complained as everyone except Hammond pulled up tall stools and helped themselves to tossed green salad and rolls stuffed with cold cuts, cheese, and tuna. “I guess the bare metal will have to do. It’s only for one day, after all. I assume you’ll provide proper dining for your staff once the guests arrive.”

  “Don’t worry about any of that,” Aubrey grumbled as Cole took the plate he’d prepared over to Hammond and balanced it on his lap. “Greg will set up the tables and chairs later. For your information, I do own plenty of tablecloths. I just don’t happen to keep them in here. But thank you for not rummaging around in my linen closet and mixing everything up.”

  “Greg, yes, your scary handyman. Is he coming in for a sandwich, too? I should hide the wine if he does. The last thing you want is a staff member staggering around the grounds under the influence.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time, I’m sure.” Aubrey shot a barbed glance in Hammond’s direction, though Hammond didn’t seem to notice. “But I doubt it. He doesn’t like groups of strangers. He makes most of his own meals in his cabin.”

  “Well, la de da for him, though I can’t say I have a problem with that.” Cole sniffed and returned to the table to pour a tall glass of red wine. Darian hoped he didn’t intend to give it to Hammond, who had clearly had enough lubrication for one day, but sure enough, Cole dutifully ferried it over to the corner and handed it to his husband. When he came back, he poured some out for himself and everyone else. “I find it kills my appetite to eat with unattractive people. Don’t you, Darian?”

  “I try not to be too fussy.” Darian smiled a bit desperately, trying to lighten the mood. Tension was obviously brewing among Aubrey, Hammond, and Cole. He wasn’t even sure who was angry at whom and why, though he felt comfortable making some guesses based on his observations so far. “Anyway, I’ll be too busy to pay attention to the food this week. Argo and I are really looking forward to the workshop.”

  “I should hope so,” Hammond piped up. “This isn’t an opportunity many guys just starting out would get. You’ve only been teaching a year, Angela says.” He punctuated his statement by stuffing most of a sandwich in his mouth.

  “Thanks, I appreciate that,” Darian said, though he saw Argo wince at Hammond’s high opinion of his own talents. Darian’s pay for the week was nothing spectacular, which was okay since it came with lodging and food for himself and Argo. If Hammond expected his assigned duties to extend into hero worship, he was going to be disappointed.

  From outside the room came two raised voices, arguing about entry to what one voice called a “restricted area.” Apparently relieved at having an excuse to step away, Aubrey left to deal with the issue. A few moments later he returned with two men in tow. One was a stubble-faced, somewhat wild-eyed man in his forties, whose grubby work clothes suggested he was the handyman, Greg Hodge. The other man stood tall, bronze-skinned and black-haired, with attractive facial features crumpled in rage.

  “Hell of a way to welcome a staff member,” he complained as he stormed past Greg into kitchen. “You didn’t say I needed a security clearance to check in at the front desk, or that it was manned by a troll you found under the bridge.”

  “Greg, it’s all right. This is one of our writing instruct—er, moderators. Why don’t you go and finish preparing for the rest of the guests? They’ll start arriving early tomorrow morning, and I want everything clean and ready for them.”

  Though Greg didn’t seem happy, and flashed Aubrey a defiant grimace, he spun around and left without argument. Aubrey turned back to the new arrival and patted his arm soothingly.

  “Sorry for any misunderstanding. Greg can be difficult, but he doesn’t mean any harm. PTSD from combat, among other issues. I always forget he takes everything I say literally, and earlier I told him we didn’t want to be disturbed at lunch. I meant I didn’t want him pestering me, but that went right over his head. I’ll talk to him later. It won’t happen again.”

  “I’d appreciate that.” The man opened his mouth as if to complain further, but Cole rushed over before he could begin.

  “You must be Kaz Fasir,” Cole chirped, looking as pleased with Kaz as Greg had looked distrustful. “We spoke on the phone, remember? I thought you’d be older.” He turned to the others. “Kaz is a highly distinguished professor, you know. He’s published a lot of—what are they called, Hammy? Peer edited articles?”

  “Peer reviewed,” Hammond grumbled. Most of his wine, Darian noticed, had disappeared. “Hardcore academic stuff. Darian would know.”

  “He’s a brainiac, in other words,” Cole continued, giving Kaz an overly approving smile. Darian stole a glance at Kaz’s left hand and saw no ring. That didn’t necessarily mean he was single, but Cole didn’t seem to mind either way. He pretended to fan himself with his napkin. “He also writes red-hot man-on-man sex poetry. Hammy read some of it to me when we were…ah, I mean, when we were considering the applicants for the position. Quite impressive, though I admit some went over my head. Some definitely hit the right spot in a lower place, though.” He giggled in a theatrical way that made Darian want to roll his eyes.