“Martin. Er...Dr. Martin Lindsey.”
Philip’s grip was firm, but his confident smile slipped. His gaze dropped to the book he held, a finger running down the cover until it stopped below Martin’s name.
His laugh was big, as big as he was, filling the whole room. Martin clenched his jaw and flexed his toes in his shoes to keep from flinching.
“Oh my!” Philip said. His slap on Martin’s back was solid, making him cough. “Well played. A little vanity never hurt anyone.”
“I didn’t mean—”
Philip’s blue eyes twinkled as he laughed again. For a minute, Martin could see Seb in them. There was very little else to link the two men. Philip was big and solid where Seb was long and almost lithe. Philip’s face was ruddy, and his hair, though gray now, had been dark from what Martin remembered. Seb’s skin and hair were so many shades lighter. The only thing that showed any sign of their relation was the eyes.
“Lindsey, eh?” Philip scratched at his beard. “Where are you working?”
“Well, I was at Mount Garner, but...” Martin coughed before he could admit to his idol that he was working part time at a used bookstore, because that was all he could manage these days.
“Mount Garner?” Philip’s eyebrow arched as his smile turned mischievous. Another thing Seb inherited from his father, then. “What a mess that is. It will take a long time to recover after that whole fuss. And you’re still there?”
“No.” Martin wanted to take his book back. Or grab another one from the shelf. Anything so he would have something to do with his hands. “I’m on...sabbatical, at the moment.”
“That’s fortunate. Good timing on your part.” Philip put one big arm around Martin’s shoulders. “And you came with my son? That seems unlikely. Maybe there is hope for him yet. Are you thirsty? How about a drink?”
He led Martin out of the library. Martin was torn between flattery at the attention and outright terror, like a princess being dragged down to the ogre’s cave.
Would it be too much to hope Seb would come rescue him?
* * *
It was hard not to be out of sorts after Seb’s conversation with Oliver. The idea of his brother living in his town made him twitchy, which compounded all the twitch from being back at the family house. And then there was the simmering sexual frustration, wanting to get back to Martin to see if the professor would let Seb kiss him again. Properly. Behind a closed door.
He found Martin still in the guest room, sitting in one of the floral armchairs and reading a thin hardcover book.
“What’s that?” Seb asked.
“My book.” Martin flipped through the pages, frowning like he thought there should be more of them.
“You brought a book?”
“No, I wrote a book.”
“You did? That one? That’s amazing!” Seb came around to peer over his shoulder, but Martin shut the book.
“It’s nothing special. There should be whole volumes written about Bergmann, but it’s a start, right? It probably won’t ever go farther than one publication run for the university market.” He smiled ruefully up at Seb. “In a few years, you’ll find a copy in the back of Dog Ears, cut it up, and sell it as something new for more money than I’ll ever make on all of them.”
“Don’t say that. You wrote a book!” It hurt that Martin couldn’t see what an accomplishment that was.
“I met your dad.”
Seb froze, his eyes darting around the room in instinctual panic. Not that he expected Philip Stevenson to be lurking behind a curtain, but his nerves were nearly shot, and he needed at least forty-five minutes with no more surprises.
“And?” he said, hoping he didn’t sound too nervous.
“He called my book inconsequential and poured me a drink.” Martin smiled crookedly, happy and sad at the same time.
Seb knew the feeling, and Martin’s reluctance to show off his book made more sense. Seb was ready to stalk down the hall and punch his dad for it, but he’d promised Oliver—again—he’d behave, at least until after Oliver broke his big news to the family.
Seb squeezed Martin’s shoulder. “Did he at least give you the good whiskey?”
“I asked for a vodka soda.” Martin turned the book over in his hands again. “But he’s got good vodka too.”
