“What desert do you think he was talking about?” Brady asked, almost in an undertone.
“I’d wager Afghanistan,” Eric said, also pondering. “Although he and Sonny are so very young.”
“They’re grown,” Brady protested, although it occurred to him that Ace might have been younger than he’d first assumed.
“He’s taken,” Eric said quietly, his voice such an echo of Brady’s own thoughts that he had to double take.
“I figured,” Brady said. “How’d you know?”
Eric gave him a condescending look. “I’ve actually seen them kiss,” he said, like it was a special pass to something. Well, maybe it was. “Are you planning to become a fixture here?”
There was something… cagey in that question, and Brady couldn’t put his finger on it.
“I’m only here to drool over the car,” Brady said, which had sort of been the truth when he’d shown up that day, but given how many gay men he’d met in a scant fifteen minutes, after living in this craphole for ayearand having to drive to Palm Springs for so much as a lazy smile, he was thinking he might have to rethink his original plan. He didn’t know about the giant man who owned the Cadillac, but that dark-haired kid named Ernie losing his shit over a Kia Sportagehadto be gay.
And Mr. Veh-ickle wasdefinitelysetting off Brady’s specially honed bells.
“Fair. It’s quite beautiful.”
Brady glanced at him sideways, trying to decide if he meant Ace or the veh-ickle. But Eric’s face was almost impassive, and when he deigned to glance at Brady, his eyes were every bit as arctic cold as Brady remembered.
“So you going to Palm Springs?” Brady asked, wondering which one of them was going to break first and head for theirvee-hi-culs.
“Yes,” Eric said, sighing and breaking first. “I have two hungry kittens who wait for no man.”
Aw, dammit. Brady had been building up a right steaming head of hatred for this guy but…kittens?
“You like cats?” he asked, suddenlyachinglycurious.
“I do,” his new acquaintance said. “IthoughtI was a dog person, really, but these two kittens….” He shook his head in bafflement. “Special-needs kittens,” he added, and there was almost a question mark at the end of his voice. “They’re really quite… winning.”
Brady nodded, and there went the last of his hatred in a little puff of steam. “My parents had an old three-legged dog before they were killed,” he said, hating himself for this story as soon as it came out of his mouth. “I would have taken him with me, but he passed about a week after they did. I think he didn’t want them to be lonely in heaven without him.”
Those icy blue eyes moved over him, and for a moment Brady expected to be ripped to shreds with a glacially smelted blade of disdain, but instead….
He got a winter-blue sky. It wasn’t warm and human yet, but it wasn’t cruel, either. Instead it was… wistful. Like he was too far away to be warm, but that didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate that the sun was out just the same.
“That’s a lovely memory,” Eric said, the surprise in his voice as distant as his eyes had been. “You should get a dog of your own.” He gave another one of those nonsmiles. “But perhaps you can treat yourself with a four-legged variety.” And with that he nodded his head in farewell and turned toward the Cadillac.
Ernie came running out of the garage on his heels.
“Eric!” he called, sounding frantic and disjointed at once. “Olives!”
The taller man turned toward him in surprise—realsurprise, not that distant surprise he’d recently shown. “I beg your pardon?”
“Small cans of olives,” Ernie said. “Two, maybe three cans. They could save a life.” The kid shook his head in confusion, and Sonny came out of the garage and took the young man gently by the arm.
“Was it a doozy?” Sonny asked, guiding Ernie toward the small cashier cubicle of the garage.
“No,” said Ernie. “Just weird.” He glanced up at Brady almost accusingly. “And you,” he said, with surprising authority. “Don’t shoot. Just… I mean, don’t shoot.” And then he allowed himself to be taken to the cashier’s cubicle without protest.
“What in the…?” Brady muttered, and by complete accident, he met that Eric guy’s eyes again.
They were suddenly focused and present andhot. “I don’t know either,” he said shortly. “But if Ernie tells you something, I’ve learned it’s best to go along.”
“So what do we do?” Brady asked, utterly confused.
“Well, I’m buying olives, and you, my friend, had best not shoot.”
