Chapter 12: Even the Beautiful Fall
Ryan Glayson was a happy-go-lightly pretty boy with looks that could knock a queer man off his feet, or so Jarr thought, watching him run down the stairs from the narrow boardwalk, through the sand, and meeting him next to the lake. Frankly, Ryan could have killed men with his good looks—burnt chocolate-colored eyes, wavy hair, and a muscular six-three frame. He sported dimples and a devilish cleft in the center of his chin. And if Jarr looked close enough, which he did while kissing the cellist, there was a tiny scar to the right of Ryan’s left eye that was half the length of a pinkie finger’s nail. Jarr knew that the young man was twenty-eight years old with a line of boyfriends. But after Googling him, finding fifty sites on the web, Jarr fell in lov
