"So if he's true to form, today's gift would have to fit six geese a-laying," Hunky UPS Guy said.
Well then. I had never been slow to seize an opportunity. "Would you like to find out? I can open it." I offered.
"Sure!" I could swear there was a smile behind that mask.
"Just a second."
I went inside, hurrying to put the package on the counter in the kitchen and grab a knife. It was a bit weird to be opening a package to show it to the UPS man. But if he was interested in being more than my delivery person, I was all for it. He seemed nice, was certainly gorgeous, and I was lonely. Maybe, at the very least, we could be friendly?
I opened the box and peeked inside. I was confused. And a little disappointed. I headed back outside.
"Well, so much for that theory." I showed him the item that had been in the box. It was a white bed pillow compressed in a clear plastic bag.
"Hang on." He looked at the item closely but didn't touch it. Another COVID concession. "All-natural goose-down pillow. There you go. It involves geese."
"Oh! Right." I turned the pillow and looked at the label more closely. "Well damn. My mystery man is sharper than I am, apparently."
"You really have no idea who it might be? You must have a boyfriend. Or someone who wants to be?" His question was leading, his eyes warm. Was he fishing? I decided he probably was. Which made my belly flutter and my pulse race.
"I don't have a boyfriend," I said, holding his gaze. "Or anyone who's anxious for the job."
"Well, someone is." His eyes crinkled as he smiled and nodded his chin at the pillow. "Thanks for letting me live vicariously. You have a great day, Paul."
He started to walk away.
"Hang on. What's your name?" I asked.
"Dan. Dan Partridge," he said, turning to face me and walking backwards for a few steps. "Bet you'll remember that."
"Bet I will," I purred, watching him get into his truck.
Chapter Three
I was more than a little curious about Dan Partridge. But there were too many hits on that name to search through on Facebook, and I didn't find anything obvious on Twitter or Instagram either.
Oh, well. I'd been meaning to call Sean anyway.
"Hey, Paul! How are you liking Port Lodge? I'm so sorry we're not there to ease the way."
"Yeah. I miss you both. But other than being a bit lonely, it's perfect. I love the area. Been taking advantage of the trail system."
"Yeah? Have you done the golf course loop yet? We like that one."
"I have. The views of the marina from the top of the hill are to die for. I keep meaning to take my lunch up there someday, but it's a bit rainy now. Maybe we can do that when you guys get back."
We chatted about Port Lodge for a bit, and about their housesit, until I finally broached the thing I'd really called about. "Say, do you know the UPS guy here in Port Lodge? Major cutie with dark hair? Not that you or Graham have eyes for anyone but each other."
"You mean Dan Partridge?"
"You know his name?" I asked in surprise.
Sean snorted. "Way to be classist, Paul. Yes, we actually speak to our delivery man."
"No. No, that's not what I meant. It's just... I guess I'm a certified introvert. I only recently thought to ask his name because I'm suddenly getting all these packages."
There was a beat of silence before Sean said, “Yes, we know Dan. He's a great guy. He's really good to our neighbor, John. He's in his eighties and pretty much housebound. Dan always spends a few minutes chatting with him. Laughing." Sean chuckled. "I swear John gets stuff delivered just to talk to Dan. And to admire the view, if you know what I mean."
"I have no idea what you're referring to," I deadpanned, just to hear Sean laugh. But it warmed me to hear about Dan's kindness to others. "Say... you don't happen to know if Dan is gay, do you?"
"Seriously, Paul? You're interested in Dan?" Sean's tone was bemused.
My back stiffened. "What is that supposed to mean? You were just saying how I shouldn't be classist."
"You shouldn't be. It's just that Dan isn't exactly your type, is he? James was such an intellectual. I've only seen you with guys like him. You know, arrogant assholes. I've never seen beefcake turn your head before."
I felt a spark of anger. "Dan is not just beefcake."
"No, he's not. I'm just surprised you recognize that."
In the background, I could hear someone laughing. It sounded like Graham.
"What's so funny?" I asked.
"Nothing," Sean said innocently. "Graham's reading something online. Anyway, what's going on with Dan? And why does all the exciting shit happen when we're out of town?"
"Nothing is going on. He's just been friendly, and I was curious about whether or not he's gay. That's all there is to it."
"Ah. Of course. Graham says he is, and his gaydar is much better than mine."
"That's true. Graham practically had to lay himself out across your lap in gold lamé to get your attention."
Sean laughed. "Yeah, yeah. And I'll never hear the end of it. So how's the new book coming along?"
I was grateful for the change of subject and we chatted about other things for a while.
When I got off the phone ten minutes later, I felt uneasy. It was strong enough that I went out on the back deck and sat in a chair in the cool, damp air, trying to decipher what had me tweaked.
Was it the implication that I shouldn't be into Dan because he was the UPS guy?
It was true, he wasn't my usual type. I'd typically dated engineers, managers, even a banker once. My ex-boyfriend, James, was brilliant. He taught Latin along with Greek and Roman history at UDub. James was definitely snobby—he could be a real twat at times. He poo-pooed my career as a gay fiction writer, looking down his nose at it even though, at other times, he'd brag about it, like when he'd taken me to faculty parties.
James was also boring, in bed and out—a fact I wouldn't admit to myself until after we'd broken up.
So what if Dan wasn't my usual type? There was nothing wrong with trying something new, was there? And there was nothing wrong with being a delivery guy. Or a plumber. Or working in a health club. Or any other profession. There'd been a time, when I was in my early twenties, when I'd thought myself intellectually superior to people like that. But that notion had long been put to bed by exposure to the foibles of fate and the realities of just trying to survive in our current world.
Hell, in 2020, any man with health insurance benefits was a man to be admired and envied.
But something else was making me feel off. Sean had said Dan was known for being nice and spending time with others, chatting. So maybe his recent interactions with me were nothing special. Maybe he felt sorry for me because I was new in the area, like he apparently felt sorry for Sean's neighbor, John. Or maybe Dan took it as a point of pride to get to know everyone on his route, and my recent spate of packages had provided an opening. Nothing more.
The most revealing thing about that conversation with Sean? Was that it bothered me at all.