Art of Love (Valley Boys Book 1) Read online

  Art Of Love

  Vicki Tharp

  Also By Vicki Tharp

  Romantic Suspense

  Lazy S Ranch Series

  Cowgirl, Unexpectedly (Book 1)

  Must Love Horses (Book 2)

  Hot on the Trail (Book 3)

  Cowboy, Undercover (Book 4)

  Cowboy, Unbridled (Book 5)

  Cowgirl, Unbroken (Book 6)

  Wright’s Island Series

  Don’t Look Back (Book 1)

  In Her Defense (Book 2)

  Steele-Wolfe Securities

  Wyoming Confidential (Book 1)

  Contemporary Romance

  Rockin’ Rodeo Series

  Luck of the Draw (Book 1)

  Photo Chute (Book 2)

  Reined In (Book 3)

  Rockin’ Rodeo Series Collection (Books 1-3)

  MM Romance

  Black Stallion Studios Series

  One Shot (Book 1)

  Key Grip (Book 2)

  Best Boy (Book 3)

  Black Stallion Studios Box Set (Books 1-3)

  Valley Boys

  Art of Love (Book 1)

  Flight of Fancy (Book 2)

  Den of Thieves (Book 3 Coming Soon)

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to author Renita Bradley for her sensitivity read. I value your kindness and insight, but most of all I value your friendship.

  Art of Love is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locals, is entirely coincidental.

  Original Cover Design by Book Designs EE

  Photo by: CJC Photography

  Model: Jered Youngblood

  eISBN 978-1-948798-32-7

  Copyright © 2020 by Vicki Tharp

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Flight of Fancy Excerpt

  A Letter to My Readers

  About the Author

  1

  A gust of wind caught Roman Reed’s door as he got out of his car in front of the Cory Center. If he were of the mind, he might consider it the winds of change blowing his way, but the practical side of him knew the Santa Ana winds had come early.

  On his calf, he brushed the scuff mark off his newly polished shoes and walked through the Center’s door, his résumé tucked neatly in a clear protective sleeve.

  He glanced at his watch. Early. But he needed to make a good impression if he wanted to work at the Center for the last semester of his senior work-study program.

  “In here,” a voice called out, over laughter, shouts, and the hollow bounce of a basketball.

  A kid in shorts and a tank top bounced into him. “Whoa,” Roman said with a laugh, “you’re coming in like a freight train.”

  The kid spun on his heel but kept going. “Sorry, mister.”

  A man appeared in a doorway down the hall, his hands in the pockets of his basketball shorts. If this man were his interviewer, then Roman had overdressed, but that was fine with him. Far better to be overdressed than underdressed.

  “Sorry about that,” the man said as Roman approached. “Jonathan only has one speed.”

  “It’s all good.” Roman extended his hand. “Roman Reed.”

  “Grant Hardy.” Grant stood back and ushered Roman into the office ahead of him.

  It was a basic, no-frills space. A desk, a couple of chairs. The required filing cabinet against the back wall.

  “I figure if I get the job, that comes standard with the kid package.”

  “And then some.” Grant settled into the chair behind his desk, The Cory Center stamped across the chest of the sweaty T-shirt he wore, the hair on his forehead damp from exertion. He pointed to himself. “Please excuse the way I look. The kids put together a mini five-on-one basketball game.”

  “We could do this another time if—”

  “No. Now’s fine. It was a good excuse to quit. I was getting my ass kicked.”

  “Mr. Grant.” The kid with only one speed ran into the office. “Dominique says that—”

  “Jonathan, come back and play.” An athletic Black woman walked in, equally as sweaty as Grant. “Mr. Grant has a meeting.”

  “You must be Roman. Oh, wow, beautiful eyes. I’ve bet those beauties have gotten you la—”

  Vondra cut herself off and snuck a glance at Jonathan. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  Roman got that kind of reaction all the time. And yes, his green eyes had gotten him laid more than once. “Thank you. Nice to meet you, too.”

  The woman caught herself staring and offered her hand. “I’m Vondra Mumbee, by the way. Official wrangler of kids. Sorry one escaped.”

  “Hey.” The blond, skinny kid gave Vondra an annoyed glance.

  “Hey, kid.” When Roman got Jonathan’s attention, he said, “You give us a few minutes, and I’ll take you and your friends on. You think you all can beat me?”

  Roman hoped he hadn’t spoken out of turn. For all he knew, Grant wouldn’t want him interacting with the kids until he’d passed a background check, but the short nod Grant gave Roman told him his instincts were dead on.

  “Dunno,” the kid said, “but anyone’s going to be better than this dude.”

  Grant gave the kid a playful punch in the bicep. “Watch it, buddy.”

  “I don’t know,” Roman said. “Just because I’m Black doesn’t mean I’m any good at basketball. Maybe I played music as a kid, or was into computers, or—”

  Jonathan squeezed Roman’s biceps through his suit coat. “Naw. Computer nerds don’t have muscles like this.”

  Grant laughed. “I’m positive you can be Bill Gates and be buff, too. Now go on and finish the game. We’ll be out in a bit.”

  “Fine,” Jonathan said with a roll of his eyes. “You’ve got five minutes.”

  Vondra gave them an apologetic smile as she ushered the kid out. “Sorry about that.” She closed the door behind her, then popped her head back in. “Take your time, but also hurry. Volleyball’s my jam, not basketball. I’m sucking wind out here.”

  She didn’t wait for a reply before shutting the door again.

  Grant apologized again. “It can be crazy around here in the summer, and we’re a little short on staff.”

  “Hopefully, we’ll be able to help each other out.” Roman handed across his résumé and leaned back, waiting as Grant read through it.

  “Utah, huh?” Grant asked.

  “Born and raised. And had enough.” Roman mostly managed to keep any bitterness out of his voice.

  “I bet California is a bit of a culture shock.”

  “Only in a good way, so far. But then again, I’ve only been here a week.”

  “Good? How so?”

  Any other time or place,
Roman would have made something up, but he was talking not only to the man who’d founded The Cory Center to help support local LGBTQ youth in the San Fernando Valley, but a man who was a semi-famous or infamous gay man, depending on your point of view.

  Roman’s view had been from the front side of a computer screen in his dorm room in Utah, watching Grant Hardy’s gay porn.

  How often do people go into a job interview not only knowing what their boss’s junk looked like, but had jerked off to him on many occasions?

  Roman managed to tamp down his blushing. “Here, two men or two women can walk down the street holding hands and not turn any heads. I can’t imagine what that feels like not to have to look over my shoulder every second and wonder if someone is going to drag me into an alley and beat the shit out of me for holding hands or kissing another man.”

  Fuck. Roman hadn’t meant to go there. He should have said the weather was nice, or he liked the beaches.

  Grant took in what Roman had said, his face serious for the first time since Roman sat down. “It’s better here. I’m not going to lie. But this isn’t a Utopia. We have our own problems here. There wouldn’t be a need for a center like this if it were one. There are still LGBTQ kids around here getting bullied and getting kicked out of their homes.”

  “I know. And I want to help those kids. If there had been a place like this for me when I was growing up, it probably would have changed my life.”

  Grant rubbed his chin, his gaze assessing. There were more personal questions in his eyes, but Roman appreciated that Grant didn’t press. None of those answers would determine how good of a fit he’d be for the Center.

  Grant picked up Roman’s résumé again. “Transferring to a new college when you only have a semester left, that’s a little unusual.”

  “I needed a change of scenery.” Roman didn’t elaborate, and his tone didn’t invite any more conversation on the matter.

  You’re fucking this up.

  Roman quickly sidestepped that line of inquiry. “And there wasn’t an organization like yours anywhere near my college. Working with these kids is what I want to do. It’s why I’m studying social work in the first place.”

  “On the phone, you mentioned that you had another job. Will it interfere with your work here?”

  “It’s a part-time gig with a catering company my friend helped me get. Most of their events are in the evenings after I’d be done here. Plus, it’s easy to get people to cover shifts. Besides, once classes start and I have to start studying more, I’m probably going to have to drop that job if I want to make my grades.”

  Roman couldn’t tell how that answer landed because Grant didn’t waste any time launching into the next one. So much for being done in five minutes.

  “You’re kind of old to still be in college, yeah?”

  “I’m an untraditional student.”

  “Ex-military?”

  “Ex-getting my life back together.” He couldn’t be more honest than that. After all, if the kind of man he’d turned out to be wasn’t what Grant wanted, then the Center wasn’t the place for him.

  Don’t go where you’re not wanted.

  He’d learned that lesson while trying to get his life straight.

  “I’m not a stranger to that myself,” Grant said with a self-deprecating smile.

  Grant slid the résumé back toward Roman. Fuck. Was this when Roman was supposed to stand and thank Grant for his time? If Grant didn’t want him, Roman would have preferred Grant waited and tossed the résumé in the trash after he’d left.

  “I like what I see,” Grant said.

  Wait? He does?

  “More importantly, I like the way you handled Jonathan.”

  Something loosened in Roman’s belly. He hadn’t even realized how tight his nerves had wound it up. “Thank you. He seems like a cool kid.”

  “If your background check pans out, I’d like to offer you the job. But I can’t do that without you knowing what you’re getting yourself into.”

  His stomach knotted again at Grant’s tone. Grant leaned forward, his elbows on the desk, the corners of his mouth twisted down. Roman didn’t know Grant well enough to read the man’s emotions, but he would have said concerned if he’d had to guess.

  “What’s up?”

  “It’s about the community project that you’d be helping with.”

  “Besides the work with the kids, the project is another one of the reasons I’m interested in this job. It dovetails nicely with my minor in art. I thought the project had been approved. Are there problems?”

  “The deal with the land went through. A donation from a local benefactor’s estate, but...”

  “I know these revitalization projects take a lot of hard work,” Roman said, filling the silence. He didn’t want Grant to think he minded getting his hands dirty. “But I’m up for the challenge. I’ve got the muscles for it.” Roman bent his arm and raised it for Grant to see his bicep. Not that Grant would be able to tell much through his suit. “Ask Jonathan, if you don’t believe me.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.” Grant laughed but sobered quickly. “It’s not the amount of work. It’s the vacant lot’s neighbor. The lot sits between a strip of shops and a church. The pastor at the church is... I guess the best way to say it is he’s not my biggest fan.

  “He tried to block us from receiving the land, and he’s not afraid to let anyone who will listen know how the Center is a haven for depravity and godlessness. Frankly, the way he makes it sound, the project is going to wreak destruction on the whole valley. Plagues. Locusts. The whole biblical nine yards.”

  “Wow. Um... It’s going to be a playground and garden benefiting the whole community. Now that pot is legal in this state, the good man should maybe take a few puffs and chill.”

  “Christ, you’re not kidding. If I thought it would help, I’d be happy to pony up some of the grant money the Center received and buy him a stash.”

  “Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think.”

  “Maybe not. I’m hoping that after the city heard and rejected the pastor’s objections that he’ll back off. But I’m not placing any bets. Bottom line, whoever is working out there could conceivably have a lot of contact with him, and I can’t have someone out there who can’t take a little heat.”

  “Got it,” Roman said. If there was anyone used to taking crap from homophobes, it was him. “Kill ’em with kindness.”

  “Damn it!” The shout came from Demetri Stavros’s guest bathroom. “I thought you said the water was shut off.”

  Demetri glanced up from the easel in front of him and met Collin’s eyes. His nude model was a twenty-something local kid who, from the looks of his social media account, made it a habit of getting naked in front of people, whether it was from behind the camera, or in this case, real life.

  “Oops.” Collin giggled. “That can’t be good.”

  The perfect light for drawing streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows in Demetri’s mid-century modern home, but he set his charcoals down and stood. “Why don’t we call it a day. I have a feeling it’s going to take me all afternoon to mop up.”

  Joss Kincaid came rushing out of the bathroom, his T-shirt soaking wet as he hustled by on his way to the front yard to turn off the water main.

  “Mmmm.” Collin stood, his eyes locked on Joss’s retreating form until the man disappeared out the front door. “You, know, I’m not usually into the ultra masc lumberjack type, but holy shit gurl, I might have to rethink that.”

  Demetri laughed and handed Collin his clothes. “Same time next week?”

  Collin balled up his clothes and wrapped one arm around them, not even bothering to cover his half-hard cock. He leaned in, his eyes ablaze with mischief. “Or... you could give me a call before that. For some off the clock time.”

  There had been a time when Demetri wouldn’t have hesitated to take the guy up on the offer. The model had a swimmer’s body, all that long and lean muscle that Demetri had a
thing for, but Demetri wasn’t the same man that he was a year ago. Besides, it was past time he started seeing guys his own age. Maybe someone who might better understand the enormous pothole in the middle of his life’s path.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Joss returned and must have overheard because he chuckled and shook his head as he passed them by again. Water had soaked the whole front side of Joss from his Cessna T-shirt down to his athletic shorts.

  Then came the splash of water. Joss hadn’t even made it back to the bathroom. Demetri closed his eyes, not even wanting to see how far the mini flood had traveled.

  He bumped his chin toward the bathroom and gave Collin a sorry, but I’ve got to go kind of smile and started backing away, leaving Collin’s invitation open. He wouldn’t take him up on it, but there were more important things at the moment than trying to find a kind way to let the guy down easy. After all, Collin did a great job as a model and, as hard as was to find someone who’d sit for him while he worked, he didn’t want to fracture their working relationship.

  “I’ll see myself out,” Collin said as he stepped into his bright pink jockstrap and pulled on his shorts.

  Demetri headed toward the hall. “Thanks.”

  Splat. Splat.

  Demetri’s bare feet slapped through the half-inch of water flooding his tile. He’d bought the home for a steal—by California standards—the year before. He’d thought he’d fix it up himself. But between teaching at the college and his art projects, the house hadn’t received more than a lick of paint. Confronting the rusted and slowly leaking water valve on the toilet convinced him he wasn’t the handyman he’d imagined himself to be.