Chapter 10
Colby “Ace” Ventura had a gaze that could be unnervingly intent.
Rusty Parker felt the power of it when he walked into the large upstairs library. With its wall of windows, the library was lighter than any other room of the house. Which meant when Ace turned to look at him hovering in the doorway, there was no escaping the force of those ocean blues.
Oh, how Ace hadsighed after Rusty admitted he hadn’t told his parents he was gay. It had been a gusty sound. Full of censure.
The bitter, acidic taste of self-loathing splashed from the back of Rusty’s throat. On the heels of that rushed a tide of indignation.
How dare Ace judge him for how he chose to live his own damn life?
Like many men of his size, men who hadn’t had to prove themselves becausenobody messed with them, Rusty was usually slow to anger. Yet, right at that moment, he felt the burn of it in his chest like a hot ember.
“This is really something, isn’t it? The only other place I’ve seen with this many books is the Harold Washington Library in the South Loop back home.” Ace turned in a slow circle to take in the mahogany bookshelves that lined the room from floor to ceiling.The only vertical space that wasn’t covered with books was the wall with the windows. In the place of books—and everywhere there wasn’t a window—there were paintings hung frame-to-frame. Most of the artwork was portraiture, but there were a few landscapes and still lifes thrown in for interest.
Oriental rugs covered the parquet floor, and leather furniture made up three distinct seating areas.A massive wooden desk sat at the far end of the library, and Rusty couldn’t help but wonder if, over the centuries, the owners of the house had collected the books because they wanted to read them or because they wanted to impress people into thinking they were smarter than they actually were.
Little of A, little of B, he finally decided.
“I mean,” Ace continued, “don’t you just love it?I feel like I need a smoking jacket, a pipe, and a monocle.”
“Never been much of a book reader myself,” Rusty said.
Ace tilted his head, his mouth twitching. Rusty didn’t know if Ace was about to frown or smile, and tried really hard not to notice how the weak afternoon light turned Ace’s blond hair into a fiery halo around his face. Ace might not have the nickname, but the man could appeardamned angelic, given the right circumstances.
“Why do you do that?” Ace asked.
“What?”
“Play the dumb jock card?”
Rusty’s heart hitched. Then it felt like it started beating backward. “Working with the hand I’ve been dealt, I guess.”
There was that sigh again. So full of censure.
Rusty clenched his hands into fists. “Why doyoudothat?”
Ace’s chin, that chin thatlooked like it belonged on a Greek statue, jerked back. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what you mean.”
“Judge people.”
“I don’t judge people.” Look in the dictionary, and next to the wordinsultedwould be a picture of Ace’s tan, blond-haired mug.
“Yeah.” Rusty nodded vigorously. “You do.” Now that he was going, he couldn’t stop. “You think I’m weak or spineless or plain ol’ stupid for notbeing out and proud.” Not only were his fists clenched, but the muscles across his shoulders were too. “But not everyone needs to air their dirty laundry for the world to see.”
“I didn’t judge you. Not until right this minute when I found out you think of your sexual orientation asdirty laundry.” Ace emphasized the last two words.
Heat flew to Rusty’s face. “Stop trying to use my wordsagainst me, damnit!”
“They’re your words. If they can be used against you, it’s your own fault.”
Rusty was gripped by an overwhelming desire to punch something. He considered making that something the blond-haired god standing in the middle of the room. Instead, he said through clenched teeth, “And now who’s treating who like a dumb jock?”
Ace’s color heightened. His fierce blue eyestraveled over Rusty’s face, past his beard-stubbled jaw, and landed on his lips. “I wasn’t judging you back in the truck. I’m not judging you now. I’m just…disappointed, I guess is the right word.”
“Which is a nicer way of saying the same damn thing,” Rusty snapped. “Disappointed in me because I don’t have the balls to come out to my folks. Disappointed that I’ve chosen to keep that part ofmy life a secret because Ilovethem and I don’t want to hurt them. Disappointed that I’d choose their happiness over my own. No matter which word you want to use, it’s still judgment.”
“No.” Ace jerked his chin side to side. “Disappointed because I thought maybe there was something happening between us. Disappointed because I was excited by the prospect. Disappointed because that bit of whimsywent buh-bye the minute you told me you’re closeted.”
