Sean decided he would keep quiet about his decision to try being a street performer. He didn’t need Tristan’s permission.
“Next stop, unemployment, so I don’t starve, but I’ll keep looking.”
Tristan ran his fingers through that thick mane of hair, and Sean had to suppress a shiver of lust. God, he was such a fool for even thinking about what Tristan would be like in bed. The man was way out of his league. Plus, Sean didn’t get a gay vibe. He didn’t get any vibe at all from Tristan.
“I was supposed to start my job in three weeks, but there was a glitch—of course—with the retirement paperwork of the guy whose place I’m taking, so I won’t know my exact schedule for a while, but I’ll probably be out of the apartment from early morning until the evening.” Tristan checked his phone. “The bank opens at nine, but there are international clients with special arrangements I’ll need to be on-site for.”
“Usually if I had a roommate, we’d coordinate dinners; or, if they weren’t into eating together, they’d mark their food in the fridge.”
Tristan frowned. “I’ve never lived with anyone, so this is all new to me. But marking food seems like a lot of trouble. I don’t care if you eat my carrots.”
“You’ve never lived with anyone? Not even in college?”
“I didn’t go to college.” Tristan’s lips tightened. “I went straight into the force.”
“Oh, I didn’t know you were a cop. I thought you said you worked in security. For Ray’s bank, I mean.”
“That was only for the past eighteen months. I started out as a cop, then got promoted to detective before I retired.”
Sean blinked. “Retired? But you’re so young.”
“Why thanks.” Tristan’s charming smile was transformative, softening the harsh lines around his eyes and mouth. Sean knew that smile was a rarity and he should feel special having received one. “But I’m forty-one. No kid.” Sean felt the weight of his assessment. “What’re you? Twenty-six? Twenty-eight?”
Sean huffed with displeasure. “I’m thirty-two. Everyone thinks I’m younger, and I’m sick of it. Sometimes I get carded at bars. It’s annoying as hell.”
Tristan burst out laughing. “I can understand why, especially when you pout like you are now. But yeah, you do look younger. It’s those freckles.” Tristan’s green eyes flicked over him casually, as if he wasn’t worth the effort.
“So you’ve never had a roommate or lived with a girlfriend?”
“Not my thing.”
What wasn’t? A roommate or a girlfriend? Dammit, he wanted to know.
“Oh. Well, I’ve had roommates, but not since one skipped out on paying their share of the rent. Once I found my cheapo, rent-stabilized apartment, I thought I’d be set for life.”
“Yeah, that sucks. Must’ve been a shithole of a building to collapse like that.”
“Yeah, but it was affordable on my lousy salary. Now…well, I’m not gonna think about it. Anyway, back to schedules. I guess we can see about dinners, but I’m pretty loose about stuff. I don’t have a set time to eat, and as far as having people over…I’m not seeing anyone, so you don’t have to worry about me bringing strangers home.”
Giving him a lazy smile, Tristan raised his brows. “So no naked girls running through the apartment early in the morning is what you’re saying?”
“In my case it would be naked guys. Does that bother you?”
“What?”
“That I’m gay.”
Tristan’s eyes narrowed. “Why would it?”
Sean shrugged. “Just asking. Some men think every gay guy is after them.”
“That’s stupid.” But Tristan rose from the barstool, his demeanor changing from casual to intent. “I’ll see you later.”
And out he went again. The door slammed behind him, and Sean sighed. Tristan might think he wasn’t bothered by living with a gay man, but his actions sure as hell didn’t match his words.
“Well, fuck it. Nothing I can do about it. We’re stuck with each other until he finds a place or I do. And I can’t look for an apartment until I find work.” As much as he enjoyed singing for Clarence, he suspected he’d need a steadier-paying job. But the summer would be a good time to test out how much he could make.
No longer hungry, he put away the rest of his food and logged on to his computer to see if any new listings had popped up on the websites he’d sent his résumé to. He scrolled through spam for strength training, testosterone pills, and the ubiquitous “Do you need more staying power in the bedroom?” No matter how many times he marked them as spam, they managed to trickle through.
