“Graeme, this is Arthur Johnson, an archeologist from the Royal College of London,” he said, falling back on manners to stop his libido from running wild. He really needed to get laid. Dry spells weren’t good for him.
“Pleased to meet you,” Graeme said, his lovely voice softer and smoother than ever.
No, Ryan would not be jealous. There was no reason for it.
“Art, this is Graeme Dallen, garden designer extraordinaire,” Ryan finished.
“You are very much extraordinaire,” Art said, wiggling his eyebrows.
For a split-second, Ryan worried that Art would offend Graeme by coming on to him, but Graeme just blushed and went straight on into business.
“Have you come to see the ruins?” he asked. “They’re right through this way.”
Graeme stepped away, ducking to the side to grab his t-shirt and put it on, then led them to the other side of the kitchen garden and through the brick archway to the marked-out lawn.
“He’s a snack,” Art whispered, leaning close to Ryan as they followed.
“He’s straight,” Ryan murmured back.
“What? No, he’s not,” Art laughed.
Ryan stole a sideways look at him, his heart beating faster with hope, then looked ahead to Graeme as he stepped over a line of twine and into the space where the ruins had also been marked out. “He used to be married to a woman,” he said, praying Graeme didn’t overhear their conversation.
“That doesn’t mean anything these days,” Art said. “It never meant anything in any days.”
Their conversation stopped abruptly as they joined Graeme at the edge of the half-uncovered foundation.
“This is what we found,” Graeme said. “Ryan uncovered a bit of a teacup, and I found a few other things as I cordoned the area off. I’ve talked to a few of the Hawthornes about what they know of the gamekeeper’s cottage, but no one seems to know much.”
Once again, like he had at the club, Art shifted with lightning speed from shameless flirt to professional archeologist. He rubbed his chin and walked around part of the marked-off area,his expression deep with thought as he tried to make out the full perimeter.
Graeme came to stand beside Ryan, almost too close for comfort, considering the wealth of conflicted feelings pulsing through him.
“Does he know what he’s doing?” Graeme asked in the same quiet tone Art had used to speculate about Graeme’s sexuality.
“He’s a professor at a university, so I’m assuming he does,” Ryan said.
“He seems a little—” When Graeme didn’t continue, Ryan glanced at him. Graeme watched Art intensely as he squatted to pull at the grass along one side of the marked-off area. Graeme’s face pinched, then he said, “He’s younger than I would have imagined an archeologist and professor would be.”
Ryan studied Art again. He was probably roughly his same age. “I guess not all professors are grey-haired old codgers.”
“I guess not,” Graeme said, a little too breathlessly for Ryan’s liking.
Was Art right? Had his gaydar detected something about Graeme immediately that had passed him by?
They watched Art poke around at various parts of the ruined foundation a bit more, just standing there, their arms nearly touching. Ryan’s thoughts and libido bounced around all over the place. He’d started the day wanting Graeme, had had his head turned by Art at the club, and now he stood with Graeme, wanting him while admiring the shape of Art’s arse every time he bent over to check out something in the grass.
Having the two of them together was going to drive him mad.
Finally, Art finished his initial perusal and strode back to where Ryan and Graeme stood. He didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes as he glanced between the two of them screamed “I’ll have you both”.
“I think you’ve got something interesting here,” he said, his smile widening and his eyes flashing. “I don’t know how formal you want my investigation of the site to be. More research is needed, and I’m sure there are records in the house somewhere to pore through, but there’s a chance I could file some paperwork with the university and obtain a grant to do a thorough study.”
A twist of dread hit Ryan’s gut. “Shit,” he said. “We don’t have any money to pay you. Archeologists are generally paid to investigate things like this, aren’t they?”
“On private property, yes,” Art said. “But that’s why I would apply for a grant from the university. That takes time and would be a lot of faff, but it would benefit my bid for tenure as well. The life of a university professor without tenure is an adventure, let me tell you. Aside from that, though, because this is private property and, as far as we know right now, there isn’t anything of national interest to uncover, whatever arrangements we make could be strictly private.” He winked.
Ryan felt that wink in his balls. Strangely, Graeme shifted slightly at his side as well.
