Nikolai’s friend Dwight ambles over and sits next to me on the sofa. We all exchange pleasantries.

“Anybody want anything from the bar?” Graeme asks.

Dwight shakes his head with a murmured thanks. Graeme looks to me.

Oh, what the hell. “Pinot grigio.”

“You got it.” The smile he flashes as he stands has my toes curling and my stomach tumbling.

Dwight leans over as soon as Graeme’s gone. “He’s not a bad guy, you know,” he drawls.

I whip my head in Dwight’s direction. “Who now?”

He nods at Nikolai. “He tries too hard.” Across the room, Nikolai edges closer to Xiavera and casually attempts to rest his elbow against the wall of cabinets. He slips, nearly stumbling into her before nailing the pose. “Way too hard.” Dwight chuckles. “But he’s a good egg. Some people simply insist on learnin’ their lessons the hard way.”

Hooking an elbow over the sofa back, I twist to face Dwight more fully. “You two are good friends, aren’t you?”

“I know it’s hard to believe, but we actually have more in common than you might think.”

There’s something disarming about Dwight. Like a favorite uncle who always has a smile in his pocket and a story to share. I find myself grinning. “Like what?”

“Well, we both love classic horror movies. And the ferocious purr of a muscle car. Nik comes over every Sunday to help me work on my ’69 Mustang, even though I know he has better things to do.” He chuckles softly. “I think he likes to distract me. You see, I haven’t talked to my son in over five years… not since I came out with what he likes to call my ‘lifestyle.’ He’s a pastor at the fastest-growing Baptist church in Odessa. Having an old queen like me for a father would scandalize the church, you see.”

Scrunching my eyebrows together, I squeeze Dwight’s leathery hand. He gives me a genial pat. “And with Nikolai’s parents still in Russia, and immigration being what it is, he hasn’t been able to get the necessary approval to bring his family over. I guess you could say we’re just two lonely souls looking for completion.”

With a wry shake of his head, he crosses one slim leg over the other. “It’s amazin’ how a first impression of someone can completely change once you get to know them.”

Isn’t that the truth.

Licking my lips, I peer over my shoulder to find Graeme. He’s thanking the bartender, a glass of wine in each hand.

Somehow, in the course of a few short days, Graham Cracker-Collins has become simply Graeme: the person who makes my heart rap-a-tap-tap whenever I even think about seeing him, and the biggest surprise of my life.

Walsh bounds onto the platform in the middle of the room. “Who’s ready for a lip-sync battle?” she croons like an announcer on WWE.