Con Riley – Must Like Spinach
Jonís future in New York seems bright. Heís on the corporate fast track as an executive problem solver, but somehow he canít help feeling hollow. Yearning for a life spent outdoors makes no sense if he wants to flourish in this city, nor does losing his cool with clients when they make bad decisions. Only leaving the East Coast behind for three months can save his business reputation.
His exile in Seattle has unexpected upsides. Jonís rented home has a garden where his true passions blossom. Itís overgrown yet idyllicóperfect if he didnít have to share it with another tenant. Tyler might be as cute as hell, and their landlady adores him, but Jon canít let himself fall for someone who seems lazy.
Three months could be enough time to see Tyler clearly, but choosing which to nurture long-termólove or a business careerómight take Jon longer than one summer.
This excerpt comes from the start of the story where Jon waits to board a flight to Seattle as a final chance to save his career. This temporary relocation offers other opportunities as well…
Seattle is beyond beautiful, if these photos aren’t doctored—urban yet green at the same time, hemmed by water and snow-topped mountains as though someone went ahead and designed a perfect location for him.
Want unspools inside Jon like a kite string, lifting his spirits steadily skyward before he’s even made it airside. When he shifts forward as the line moves, he catches sight of someone familiar. It’s him, reflected faintly in a glass pane—boy-like and beaming—and he almost stumbles over his bag.
When the hell did he last feel authentic excitement like this?
And when had he last looked forward to the next day instead of spending each night dreading its arrival? Living with the others had been exhausting, their no homo bullshit grating. Now possibility after possibility runs through his mind.
One in particular lingers.
Hooking up in the shared apartment had been impossible, but bringing someone back for the night in this brand new city would be no one’s business but his. Jon takes out his phone and swipes past hookup apps he’s barely done more than hover over lately. He clicks on his email icon instead and checks out his per diem. According to the expenses package Hallquist Holdings offers, he could stay in a designated motel or rent a modest place of his own.
His jaw tightens as he searches online rental listings with intense focus. The line moves, but Jon nudges his carry-on ahead without looking up from his screen, scrolling past listings for condos and apartments out in distant suburbs when he guesses he should stay central. He almost shoots past one listing before scrolling quickly back, sure he must’ve misread its title.
2br – Central Seattle Apt – Cheap, but must like spinach!
Who the heck lists an apartment like that?
He clicks through and reads the details. An apartment over a garage isn’t exactly what he pictured renting, and the listing has no interior photos, which he guesses should be a warning, but a couple of pics snapped outside have him peering closer. They do a lot to explain the must-like-spinach tagline.
A backyard fills the screen, featuring the kind of well-stocked garden he hasn’t set foot in for years. The photo must have been taken in late summer if the produce he can just about make out is any indication. There’s a greenhouse in the next shot, with two weathered seats set on either side of its door. A tiny red-haired woman sits on one, her features indistinct like she’s been caught while laughing. The blond man seated next to her is clearer. He sprawls like he’s exhausted, all long legs and sunburned chest and shoulders, but it’s his soft smile that Jon zooms in to study. Maybe he’s the tenant this ad seeks to replace. Or perhaps he lives nearby.
Must like spinach? Jon thinks.
With a neighbor who looks like that, he can learn to love it.
Con Riley lives on the wild and rugged Devonshire coast, with her head in the clouds, and her feet in the Atlantic Ocean.
Injury curtailed her enjoyment of outdoor pursuits, so writing fiction now fills her free time. Love, loss, and redemption shape her romance stories, and her characters are flawed in ways that makes them live and breathe.
When not people watching, or wrangling her own boy band of teen sons, she spends time staring at the sea from her kitchen window. If you see her, don’t disturb herósheís probably thinking up new plots.
