Brady swallowed, thinking about the slender, rabbity auto mechanic. “That kid… that kid’s got a story,” he said thoughtfully.
Eric’s snort told him that was an understatement. “I think everybody in Ace and Sonny’s circle does,” he said. “Including you and me.”
Brady nodded. “I have the feeling,” he said carefully, “that I could have a dozen perfectly normal dates with you and never know your whole story.”
Those amazing ice-blue eyes opened and closed slowly, as though assimilating. “I would have to trust you in extraordinary ways for that,” he said softly. “Perhaps we should keep our conversation light, or even focused on how to keep you alive. My secrets are… unnecessary to haul into the light tonight.”
Brady closed his eyes, enjoying the closeness of this fine male body, the comfort of somebody who gave a damn that he hadn’t died today. “Okay,” he said, lost. “Let’s have Thai food. Let’s pretend it’s okay to walk into your job one morning only to find out everybody wants you dead by the afternoon.”
Eric pulled back and started for the steps out of the pool, snagging Brady’s hand as he went. “But is that really how it happened?” he asked, tugging imperiously. “Did you really have no idea they wanted you dead?”
Brady swallowed and allowed himself to be towed. In his head was a montage—a series of moments from the last week, starting with the look of contempt on Arlen Cuthbert’s face when he’d snatched the phone out of Brady’s hands.
Maybe he’d known. Maybe that’s why Ace’s offer of backup had felt so real.
“All the robbers survived,” he murmured as Eric wrapped a towel around him. He resisted the urge to step into his arms.This moment was sheer romance—he wanted to fall into it, fall into the handsome man with the false name like he’d fallen into the jewel blue of a stranger’s pool. But he was a practical man. Even his one big hobby was born in practicality, because everybody needed a vehicle, right?
But then, some men wanted a veh-i-cle. Or in this case, avee-ickle.
He swallowed, and found he’d leaned nearer anyway. Eric’s fingertips danced around his hairline, pushing back the strands as they tried to fall into his eyes.
“So sweet,” Eric said. “Yes, they survived. They were about to go out there, guns blazing, to take out a lone policeman crouching behind his SUV. We didn’t want to kill them—we simply wanted to stop them from hurtingyou.”
Brady swallowed, aware this was the first real admission he’d had that his friends—yes, friends—had done highly illegal things to keep him alive.
“Thanks,” he whispered.
Eric kissed his temple. “Don’t mention it. Come on. Let’s eat. Talk about other things. Pretend we’re just two men having a nice evening.”
Brady gazed into his blue, blue eyes, and found they weren’t ice blue right now. They were the jewel blue from the pool. “Okay,” he conceded. “Not hard to do.”
Eric gave him a pleased smile. “Was that a compliment?”
Brady shrugged. “I’m not great at them, but sure.”
And that brought a laugh. “Excellent. Come. Sit. I don’t know Jason that well, but I find that either he or his boyfriend has excellent taste in patio furniture.”
Brady found himself in a comfortably padded chair drawn up to a wooden table. The dining and lounging area was mostly under a lattice, probably meant to keep the furniture—and the people—out of the scorching sun in the summer. He saw mistersand ceiling fans attached to the lattice and realized this place could be quite comfortable most days.
And that the smells coming from the boxes were amazing and he hadn’t eaten since strawberry donuts that morning.
Dinner passed in a haze. The Thai food was delicious, and Eric’s company was… charming. He talked about his kittens. And trips to Provincetown, where apparently men with six-packs and speedos skated through a nice boy’s dreams. He talked about whale watching and the worst snowstorm he’d ever seen—one winter in Minnesota (God rot it), where he was determined to never visit again.
“The people were sweet,” he said ruminatively. “And so much more progressive and delightful than they will ever be given credit for in the media. But I was snowed in for a month, and if I never see another can of Campbell’s soup again, I will live a happy life.”
Brady laughed like he was supposed to and asked what seemed to be a reasonable follow-up question. “What were you doing there in the first place?”
The night was already on the cusp of too cold, and suddenly Brady shivered. Eric’s eyes had shuttered, that natural charm and warmth cut off, and he was left in the chill of the desert.
That, more than anything, drove Brady home to the fact that he had stepped off his normal life a week ago and only now recognized uncharted territory.
“I’m sorry,” he rasped. “Dumb question. I shouldn’t have asked.”
And the next expression that passed over Eric-should-have-been-Charlie’s features was… sorrow.
“It should be okay to ask,” he said with a very European shrug. “Most of my lovers don’t have to ask. But you….” His mouth quirked up, but it wasn’t a happy smile. “You’re a verygood boy, you know. Not simply ‘a deputy’ or ‘a policeman,’ but a nice man. I’ve never been with a nice man before.”
“Not even as a kid?” Brady asked. “I mean, my first boy wasn’t gonna be forever, but he wasn’t a Nazi oligarch either!”
