Kent grinned. “Only if you’re willing. Or come over and just hang out and watch this first time, if you’d rather. I like playing matchmaker and I have someone coming this Saturday who I’d like to introduce you to.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. You in?”

  Hell, yeah! But what he said, as chill as he could manage, was, “Sure. Sounds fun.”

  Kent withdrew another business card from his pocket. On this one, he’d written a phone number, address, and four-digit number. “Six o’clock sharp. There’s the gate code. Bring towels, and a bathing suit if you don’t want to swim naked. Casual dress. Snacks and soft drinks provided. Absolutely no peanut products, because one of our guests has severe allergies. And don’t tell anyone. No plus-ones—nobody. If there’s someone you’d like to invite, talk to me and I’ll approach them. Violating any of my rules means a permanent lifetime ban from my parties.”

  Colton took the card and eagerly nodded, no longer able to contain his excitement. “Thank you!”

  Kent smiled. “No test results, no playing, though. Make sure to get them if they’re over a month old. And bring extra business cards with you in case anyone wants to get a look at your artwork.”

  “I will, thanks.”

  Kent shook with him and Colton walked him to the front door.

  He slipped the card into his pocket, and after Kent left and Colton returned to the front counter, Aunt Roberta arched an eyebrow at him.

  “Well?”

  His face heated. “Well what?”

  She smiled. “You have a date?”

  “Um, sort of. Not with him, though. He’s taken. He’s going to introduce me to someone. He’s the one who came in late yesterday and made the huge purchase.”

  “Oh! I wondered who bought those vases. That’s awesome.”

  “Yeah.” Which reminded him, he really should make some more of those. No, they didn’t make him a lot of money, but they were mentally and emotionally soothing to work on, and were great advertisements for classes even when they didn’t sell. “I’ll be back down in a few. I’m almost done. Then I want to spend some time in the workshop.”

  “Take your time, honey.” She shooed him upstairs. “I’ve got this.”

  He waited until he was back in his office to take the card out. He snapped a picture of the back side of it with his cell phone so he didn’t risk losing the information. Then he used his laptop to look up the address.

  Huge piece of property, expensive-looking, east of Venice.

  Wow.

  Then he decided to Google Kent Corwin, and his jaw dropped.

  The guy was head of a huge logistics company that was partnered with a software company…

  Run by Tim and Paul, who were apparently legally wed husbands, based on their hyphenated last names.

  Okay, then.

  That reminded him, he needed to update the shop’s website, including marking off the five pieces he sold yesterday and moving the pictures over to his portfolio. He did commissioned work from time to time, but that was only a small fraction of his business, the profits from which he always dumped into his savings.

  Grammy had emphasized to him that it was better to be comfortable later in life than it was to be “rich” now, if one couldn’t be both. She’d lived that philosophy and he’d never felt like he was lacking for anything when he moved in with her. She’d shown him how to love, how to laugh, how to enjoy a walk on the beach or take pride in creating something that made his heart sing.

  To be happy with the material possessions he had instead of mourning what he didn’t.

  To find satisfaction in his art.

  He’d tried to live by that philosophy, taking great comfort and pride in his work. He loved making art, making things that made people smile.

  Would it make him rich? No, but he could survive.

  He could pour the emotions inside him into his art, with every stroke of a brush, or every careful cut when making lacework pieces, or when designing a new model piece from which to cast the molds.

  Helped him not feel so…numb.

  Losing Grammy had numbed him in so many ways, maybe it was why he hadn’t tried harder before now to date, to find a guy.

  Okay, so there was no maybe about it—he still hurt, still grieved, and he knew she’d be the first person playfully scolding him to put himself out there and look for a guy to love him.

  Before now, it’d been easier to stay numb, in some ways.

  Now, the loneliness had broken through, shattered the plaster façade he’d poured around his heart to protect it from further damage.

  The chance encounter with Kent Corwin and his boys…well, maybe it was the nudge he needed to start moving in the right direction. To break out of this shell and finally start to live again. He had a handle on everything else.

  Now if I could just find a guy to share my life with, it’d be perfect.

  Chapter Five

  Saturday morning, Colton waited until after he returned from the gym to grab a quick shower. He’d only need another one later, before he headed to Kent’s, but he wanted to rinse the worst of the sweat off. He didn’t even bother shaving today. He’d gotten tested Wednesday morning, on his way back to the gym, and picked up his results Friday afternoon.

  That made tonight more real, somehow.

  He wasn’t teaching any classes today, but he wanted to spend the morning in the corner of the workshop area that was reserved for him alone. He’d dug out a couple of his molds from the storeroom yesterday so he could pour a new vase today. He didn’t use stamps or punches on his custom art pieces—they were all freehand. Today he was going to work on a small one, because if he tried to start a large one, he’d end up so engrossed in the process that he’d totally miss the party tonight.

  Which was another reason he wanted to work on an art piece today, to keep him from working up a case of nerves and cancelling tonight. Tomorrow morning, he’d pour and start one of the larger vases, with all day Sunday and Monday to relax and focus his mind and work on it.

  He didn’t want to cancel tonight, no matter how uncomfortably anxious he was starting to feel.

  He wanted to take a chance and put himself out there, stop self-medicating with work and numbing himself to life. Right now, his emotional life was just as bland and dusty as an unfired and unglazed piece of greenware.

  Today, he had the back door to the workshop standing open. It led to the covered and screened-in porch area where their kilns were located. Years ago, he’d put up plastic latticework over the screen to help protect the area even more without impacting air flow too much. This way, the kilns didn’t turn the back of the store into a roasting oven and make the AC work that much harder. They had a plastic curtain to keep in the AC in the rest of the downstairs area.

  Today, it was muggier than hell, and the humidity actually helped him, in this case. It would take the greenware longer to dry, meaning it would be easier for him to work with the piece.

  He prepped the mold and wrapped it with the large rubber bands he used to hold it together. This one would be a small underwater scene, a popular theme there in Venice, right on the Gulf of Mexico. Once he had a batch of slip mixed, he poured it, making sure to get the bubbles out of the mold before letting it sit. He set a timer on his phone and perched on his work stool to doodle ideas in his small notebook while he waited before he could pour out the excess slip.

  Yesterday, he’d texted Kent with a few questions, and the man had actually called him to chat and set his mind at ease. Nothing would be required of him at the party tonight—period. He was under no obligations to do anything. But yes, some of his guests basically had an orgy.

  And, yes, there would be more than one person there willing to spank Colton’s ass—and more—if Colton decided he wanted to do that. In fact, while Kent wouldn’t go into details to protect the other man’s identity and privacy, Kent told Colton he had a specific man in mind to introduce him to.

  Although the thought of getting on his knees and servicing a line of guys with his mouth and ass also held a certain appeal to Colton. It’d been so damn long since he’d done anything, maybe a head-first dive into the deep end of the pool would do him some good.

  Once he could pour the excess slip out of the mold, he set another timer and grabbed a larger sketch pad to start planning what he’d paint on the vase after it was ready to glaze. He enjoyed drawing and painting, but his true love was making three-dimensional art. The more delicate, the better, when it came to cutting out the lacework patterns on the vases.

  Newer customers to the store, especially students watching him demonstrate a technique, never failed to comment how amazed they were he could create something so intricate with as large as his hands were.

  Secretly, it always amused him, made him smile.

  Here he was, fawned over by mostly women of all ages, while his parents couldn’t even be bothered to give a shit about him.

  No denying it was an ego-boost. Even better than catching people watching him during his workouts.

  He didn’t let it go to his head, though. Another of Grammy’s lessons. That it didn’t really matter what others thought of you, because you were the one who had to go to bed with yourself every night. To learn to be satisfied with who he was. Not to mean stop improving or learning, but to not form his impression of himself through others’ eyes—good or bad.

  The bad he could get from his parents.

  It made sense, sure.

  After he removed the greenware vase from the mold and prepped it, he started freehand etching guide marks on the outside of the piece before he started cutting. Once he started cutting out the shapes, he felt a sweet kind of zenful peace wash over him. As he worked, his focus totally drew tightly inward, only on the vase in his hands. He was vaguely aware of people gathering outside the roped-off area to watch him, but he never minded that. It was sort of a free advertisement for the kinds of classes they taught.

  Another point that amused him was when he taught a class, it was almost always full, and frequently with repeat students who had already taken the class from him, if he’d taught it before.

  Usually female students over the age of fifty.

  Yes, he’d put their e-mail newsletter to good use, including pictures of him and the other instructors in it.

  Grammy had laughed when she realized it and pointed it out to him.

  He didn’t care. It meant money coming in. They received a lot of word-of-mouth customers, and even held bachelorette parties and baby showers. If it meant they were making money, he damn sure wouldn’t complain about that.

  By the time he was finished with that part of the process and sat up to stretch, he cracked his neck and realized it was nearly four o’clock.

  Aunt Roberta laughed as she walked over. “There he is. Back with the world?”

  “Yeah.”

  She smiled. “Your class next week is full with pre-paid students, and with an eager waitlist long enough to start another class.”

  “There were only two people signed up yesterday, and I haven’t even sent out the newsletter yet.”

  A knowing smirk that looked so much like Grammy’s filled her face. “Honey, you know damn well what you do to the retired women in this town.”

  He sighed. “Go ahead and schedule another class, then, please.”

  “Any day in particular?”

  He thought about his upcoming activities that night and wondered if he might be similarly busy next weekend.

  He could hope. “On a weekday, please.”

  “Sure thing, sweetie.” She headed back to the front counter to set it up.

  He preferred to reserve the weekends for the other teachers, because their classes didn’t usually fill up as quickly as his did, and it was easier for people to come out on weekends.

  The weekday classes were normally filled with retirees who were more interested in the teacher than the class.

  Not that he was complaining.

  Their money spent just the same.

  * * * *

  Rom swallowed back nerves when he pulled up to Kent Corwin’s front gate at ten ’til five. The property was fricking huge.

  Sure he knew the guy was loaded, but this was the tangible proof and not just dollar amounts on a computer screen.

  He rolled down his window and punched in the gate code, breathing a sigh of relief when he heard a beep from the keypad and the gate started to swing open.

  He hadn’t fucked it up, hadn’t been the victim of a cruel prank.

  Following the winding driveway up to the house, he parked in the shade next to another car already there and took one more deep, steadying breath. He’d opted to dress in jeans and a button-up shirt today, even though a phone conversation with Kent yesterday had told him he was welcomed to dress casually, and that full nudity was encouraged once the party got into full swing.

  Rom left his wallet locked in his glove box and tucked his test results into his shirt pocket before popping the trunk hatch to grab his bag. He’d brought condoms and lube and towels and implements, including a couple of coils of rope.

  He’d prepared for anything—he hoped—and was trying to keep his expectations low so he didn’t come on too strong to anyone.

  Kent had briefly described the guy he wanted to introduce Rom to in the broadest of terms, and…

  Yeah. If the guy lived up to Kent’s physical description, he’d be all in. Tall, broad-shouldered, and blond?

  Yum!

  He loved playing with guys larger than him. He usually didn’t have to hold back, and it was sexier than fuck having a bigger man willing to bottom to him.

  If the other guy opted to go so far as subbing to him, it tripled the sexy factor.

  Kent himself opened the door and met him with a smile and a handshake. Two men dressed in shorts and T-shirts walked into the entry, and Kent introduced them.

  “This is Tim and Paul, my husbands.” Kent smiled. “And yes, I still need to get back in to see you about some account stuff. I’ve added them to several of my trusts and want them to have bank access, too.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Rom said.

  Kent quickly showed him around, including his playroom, which was a bedroom with an en suite bath and several pieces of dungeon furniture. “For right now, you can stash your stuff in the guest room. Oh, heh, formality, but test results?”

  Rom dug them out and handed them over. Kent quickly scanned the paper, returning it with a smile. “I mean, people are free to fuck wrapped or raw. One of the rules is if a guy asks for a condom, you use it. Period. I can’t provide one-hundred-percent guarantees everyone’s neg, and I would hope everyone understands that, but it’s a little peace of mind.”

  After stashing his bag, Rom followed Kent to the kitchen, where dinner was apparently close to being ready. “How much are you comfortable with people knowing about you tonight?” Kent asked.

  Rom shrugged. “I mean, I don’t want my address and phone number handed out to anyone, unless I get to know them first.”

  “What about what you do for a living?”

  “Keep it generic—I work for a local financial institution.”

  “Excellent.” Kent smiled. “This guy—holy cow, if I wasn’t happily taken already, I would have definitely wanted a chance at him. Really seems like a sweet guy, artist type. But, oh my god, he’s also a personal trainer part-time. Six-four, blond, square jaw, broad shoulders, beautiful ass, and those gorgeous fucking little things along his abs that just make me drool.”

  “Hey,” Tim playfully teased. “We don’t have those things.”

  “You mean an Adonis belt?” Rom asked.

  Kent snapped his fingers. “Yeah, that’s what it’s called.” He pulled Tim in. “You don’t need them. Besides, you have my heart.” Kent leaned in for a kiss. “That’s even hotter.”

  “How’d you even see his abs?” Paul asked, but Rom could tell from the guy’s tone he wasn’t upset, probably more amused than anything.

  “I looked him up on the gym’s site. They had pictures.”

  “And you didn’t show us?” Tim asked. “Rat bastard, holding out on us.”

  Kent swatted his ass. “Maybe I didn’t want the competition for attention from you two.”

  But from the smile on Kent’s face, Rom sensed no one could compete with any of them for the others’ affections.

  It made Rom’s own heart tightly squeeze in his chest, knowing he didn’t have that kind of rapport with anyone, much less two apparently great guys.

  They sat at the smaller table in the kitchen to eat and for Kent to go over the party’s rules with him.

  “So, any questions?” Kent asked when they finished dinner and talking.

  “Yeah, can I see a picture of the guy?”

  Kent shook his head. “Nope. I protect identities. You’ll see him soon enough.” He glanced over at the wall clock. “He’ll be here in about twenty minutes. If he wants you to know all of that, he’ll tell you himself. But, I will show you something else.” He crooked a finger at him and stood.

  Rom followed.

  On a door at the opposite end of the hallway from the playroom door, Kent punched a code into the lock and opened it. The bedroom suite beyond was huge, like twice the size of the large playroom, and also had an en suite bath.

  “He made these.” Kent walked over to a large bedroom window looking out on the gorgeous backyard. In each side of the window were niches, and sitting in each niche were large, delicate-looking vases painted with underwater scenes. They also had battery-operated tea lights in them, which Kent lit, and stood back.

  “Those are beautiful.”

  “Right?” He crossed his arms and slowly shook his head. “I’m telling you, if I was single, I’d be going after him hard and heavy myself. I get a feeling about people really quick, you know? Soon as I met this guy Monday, I knew he was special. I’d planned on inviting you to the party tonight anyway, after we saw you up at the Toucan. But I saw this guy, and thought, damn, I bet you’d like him. That’s why I asked him to come early, so I can go over the rules with him and give you two some alone time before the horde invades us and he’s up to his armpits in dudes wanting a crack at him.”