Nothing. It’s my brain playing tricks on me. I’m not a fan of big crowds at the best of times, and right now, with my heat starting up, I’m definitely not at my best.
I don’t know… I think you were pretty phenomenal.
The reply came so quickly that it had to be sincere. Vincent hadn’t spent ages choosing the best words or editing his comment to make an impact—he’d spoken from his heart and replied.
It wasn’t how their conversation was supposed to go. Vincent was supposed to have moved on.
What was the catch?
Mal fished Vincent’s business card from his pocket and searched it for further details. There was his cell number, an office number, which had been scratched over by pen, an email address in Vincent’s name, and an address located in Oregon.
Oregon.
Mal frowned.
Oregon was thousands of miles away. No wonder Vincent was being so friendly—he was in town for the wedding, and then he was going to fly back home and forget the weekend had ever happened. Mal should have guessed as much. No one he was interested in ever stayed in his life for long.
But the look in Vincent’s eyes… was it wrong to dream?
It wouldn’t have been so phenomenal if I hadn’t had someone touching me like you did.
You’re sweet. Where are you right now? I wouldn’t mind running into you again.
Mal blinked and reread the message several times, trying to determine if there was innuendo in it or not. Before he could reply, Vincent sent a follow-up text.
God, I meant that in a nice, nonsexual way. I’m sorry. That was kind of ambiguous, wasn’t it? I guess I’m not used to this whole Being a Gentleman thing. I usually keep to myself.
A tiny smile lifted Mal’s lips, and strange warmth rushed through his chest. Vincent was a nice guy, even if they had met under unusual circumstances.
I usually keep to myself, too, but I’m glad you happened to stumble into my little closet.
I’m glad I did, too. :)
A smiley face. That was a good sign, right? A cold wind stirred Mal’s hair and slid its way under his suit jacket, bringing with it a shiver that started between Mal’s shoulder blades and plunged to his lower back. As the weather chilled him, he read back over their texts and realized he’d neglected to answer Vincent’s question.
Should he answer it?
If he stayed out where guests weren’t, he could come down from his anxiety and maybe pull himself together enough to make it back to the party. But if Vincent came out to join him, Mal wasn’t sure he’d ever want to go back.
I heard the clock strike twelve. I had to go.
I thought it was strange I didn’t see you in the crowd anymore. One second you were there, the next, you were gone. If your pumpkin leaves you stranded, will you give me a call?
What was Vincent’s game? He was young and attractive—perfectly suited for any of Alex’s friends—but he was being kind to Mal in a way that was more than friendly. How many years separated them? Fifteen? More? Maybe Vincent hadn’t seen the wrinkles in the corners of Mal’s eyes in the dim light of the storage closet, or maybe he’d enjoyed too much champagne and hadn’t noticed. Whatever the case, Mal thought he should set him straight. Vincent was too nice to be led astray.
I would, but I think your prince is in another castle. I’m probably not as young as you think I am.
So?
Two letters had never struck Mal as hard. He stared at his phone, struggling to comprehend the response.
I mean, I think I’m a lot older than you.
So?
A smile crept onto Mal’s face. It was a simple joy, but he welcomed it regardless. There was a chance that Vincent was placating him, but right now, he couldn’t help but feel like he really mattered to someone, even if that someone was a near stranger.
Vincent followed up with a second text.
