Because of a deathbed promise to his father, Elijah Peck reluctantly left his friends and successful career in Bridgeport to return to Willowby, Connecticut, the small town of his upbringing, in order to run the antique shop that had been in his family for generations. Now, in just the span of two years, Eli has morphed into a social recluse, isolated in what he believes is a stuffy, suffocating nowheresville. With no thriving gay community at his disposal, and with his entire existence wrapped around the store he never really wanted, Eli's devoted little time to his personal needs. As a result, instead of acting like a man in his mid-thirties, living out his own dreams, maybe even finding love with the right guy, he often feels like just another item in his shop -- a dusty, moldy antique that has seen better days.<br><br>But all that starts to change when a stranger moves to Willowby.<br><br>One night outside his shop, Eli has a chance encounter with Neville "Gray" Grayson, a wickedly handsome musician who's purposely left the bustle of New York City in favor of quiet country living. Eli is instantly drawn to Gray, and the flirtatious jazzman stirs dormant feelings inside Eli, reinvigorating his hopes for a brighter future. Not only does Gray make Eli feel attractive for the first time in years, but also makes him appreciate small-town life in a way he never has before. And Eli can't help but wonder if Gray's presence also offers the promise of finding much-needed companionship, sexual fulfillment, and perhaps even love ...

When the Jazzman Sings

“I think you need another beer,” said Gray.


Without explanation, Gray winked knowingly, then grabbed my arm. He led me out of the studio and back to the kitchen area. Within seconds, he handed me another ice-cold Miller Lite. After I downed a few gulps, he lifted his own fresh beer to mine and clinked our bottles together.


“So tell me,” he said, his voice low and probing. “It was also the beginning of what?”


I sighed again, and this time it sounded monumentally heavy in my ears. “Trouble.”


“I thought you said your buddy, Dillon, didn’t have a clue how you felt about him.”


“Oh, not trouble with him…but with my dad. As it happens, he didhave a clue about what I was thinking.” I shook my head in ancient frustration. “In my more open moods, I made the mistake of doodling love-hearts on blank pieces of paper, and sometimes I didn’t use the initials, but the full names. Anyway, my dad found one of them and that’s when he started—well—to put distance between us.”


Chapter 19