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Tristan glanced down at himself and saw that Kev was right. He’d somehow managed to get a smear of something on the scooped neckline. He shrugged. “It’s not the first time I’ve ended up messy after a date.”
“Oh, honey, same,” Kev said. “And in that exact dress. Well, twenty years ago when I could still fit into it, that is.”
“You still look stunning,” Tristan said, because he wasn’t stupid.
Kev blew him a kiss.
“Anyway,” Dad said. “It looks like the glad-handing and schmoozing part of the evening is done, and I’ve convinced the staff to put someone’s nineties playlist on, so your mother and I are going back inside so I can impress her with my smooth dance-floor moves.”
“You don’t have any smooth dance-floor moves,” Tristan said.
“I think I still remember the Macarena.”
“I rest my case.” Tristan turned to Leo. “I, on the other hand, have very smooth moves. Wanna see?”
Leo gave him a soft smile. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
Tristan beamed, then bent down and tugged off the heels he’d borrowed from Miss O’Jenny. Fuck dancing in those things—walking was enough of a challenge—then he took Leo’s hand and led him inside.
They joined Mum and Dad and a handful of other couples on the dance floor. Tristan cringed at his Dad’s rendition of yes, the Macarena—seriously, who the hell had that on their playlist?—before showing him how it was actually done. Leo laughed and joined in before a slower song started. Tristan wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close for a proper dance. They swayed in time to the music, and Leo was warm and solid against him. His eyes sparkled, his hair was a mess of soft curls and he was gorgeous.
Tristan loved him, and he couldn’t keep the words in, not for anything.
“I love you, Leo Fisher.”
Leo stilled in his movements. For a moment Tristan was afraid that he’d fucked it up, that Leo didn’t feel the same, then Leo reached up and pushed a tendril of hair behind Tristan’s ear, smiled and said, “Thank fuck you said it first. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold out.”
Tristan let out a breath. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Leo leaned in and kissed him then, and it was the most perfect kiss Tristan had ever had. Maybe that’s what love did, he reflected. It took what was good and made it perfect.
When they finally parted, Leo said, softly, “We’re going to finish this dance, then we’re going to go back to our place and I’m going to ravish you like I promised. Because I love you, Tristan Montague, but also, you’re hotter than hell in that dress, and I can’t wait to peel you out of it.”
Tristan’s smile widened. He loved Leo, and Leo loved him back.
He didn’t dance after that. He floated.
Chapter Twenty
Six months later
“It’s not about the size, necessarily,” Leo said to the red-faced twink who looked ready to melt into the floor in embarrassment, “but more about the curve. A prostate stimulator has a very specific job to do, and it doesn’t need to be huge. If you do want something for the stretch, we’ve just got in a great new selection of dildoes. They have a suction base, so they work really well in the shower.”
“Oh,” murmured the twink. His eyes were big enough to swallow whole galaxies.
“So it all depends on what you’re looking for,” Leo said. The twink looked slightly panicked, and Leo took pity on him. It hadn’t been that long ago that he’d felt the same. It was funny how things changed. “Don’t worry. There’s no right or wrong here. People just like different things. So why don’t you browse for a bit and think about it? Come and see me or Orlando if you have any more questions.”
“Okay,” the twink said faintly. His gaze darted over to where Orlando was stacking shelves. On a stepladder, his shapely arse jutting out.
Leo left him to it. It wouldn’t be the first time Pleasure Party had lured customers in just because of Orlando’s fantastic arse. He’d let Orlando break it to the guy that he was in a committed relationship with a drag queen over twice his age who could kill a man with a single stare or a well-aimed stiletto.
Leo’s phone vibrated, and he fished it out of the back pocket of his leather pants, the ones that Tristan said made his arse look amazing. They were light-years away from the sensible khakis he’d worn at his old job, but then again, owning and managing a sex shop was light-years away from being an urban planner—in the best possible way. The past six months had been like a crazy dream, and Leo wouldn’t give any of those moments back for anything.
After the confrontation with his parents, Leo hadn’t hesitated to ignore their opinions and instead go ahead and do what he’d wanted—and what he’d wanted was to keep both the shop and the house, so he had. His parents had had remarkably little to say on the subject. They didn’t have much to say to him at all these days.
When Wei and Orlando had wanted to cut back their hours since they were too busy putting their own spin on Bad Boyfriends—it was called Disaster Dating, now, and they were busier than ever—he’d stepped in to run the shop. It was only meant to be a temporary solution, and he hadn’t expected to love it as much as he did. But he soon discovered he was happier here than he’d ever been as a town planner, because not only was it interesting and fun, but the shop was a much more important part of the community than he’d realised. It wasn’t all about vibrators and anal beads. It was about putting money and time into events that supported LGBTQ+ kids, contributing to the local church’s soup kitchen and drumming up support from other business holders for stuff like better signage and street lighting—okay, maybe he was still a town planner at heart—and about being a part of the neighbourhood he lived in. It was about building connections with people he cared about. So he’d quit his job at the council without a backward glance and made the move permanent.
The text was from Harry, asking if he needed anything while he was grocery shopping. He sent back that he was good, thanks.
