Benji scratched his red cheek, momentarily bumping the wine glass into his eye. It was so adorable that Noah had to clench his fists to stop himself from pulling him in by his shirt.
“I got the wine,” Benji said, flustered.
“Thank you.” Noah kissed his flushed cheek, plucking the glasses out of his hands and placing them on the bar. “Let’s save these for later. I think Dillion might be trying something.”
Benji’s smile dropped. “What?”
“Might be nothing,” Noah said doubtfully. “Come with me. I put security on it, but I don’t know how well they’ll do with the maze.”
They arrived back in the room he’d collided in just as one of the security guys headed for the door Noah and Dillion had been aiming for.
“Sir,” the man told Noah. “He went through here.”
“Got it. Stand by.” Noah squeezed Benji’s hand encouragingly and pulled him through.
The hallway was long and narrow. No curves to get lost in, just a straight shot toward a lone painting at the end of a brightly lit hall.
Dillion stood at the end, fumbling in his pocket.
Noah picked up the pace. “Hey! Want to show me what you’ve got?”
Benji piped up behind him in unison. “Hey, fuckhead! Get away from that!”
Dillion jumped. He tossed a panicked look over his shoulder, metal flashing in his hand. A paint can, Noah realized. Small enough to fit in a coat pocket, the underside of the lid glinted red as Dillion pried it open.
Noah broke into a sprint and grabbed Dillion’s wrist. “I saiddropit.”
He dug his thumb into the center of Dillion’s wrist and pressed down hard.
Dillion’s hand spasmed. The paint can toppled out of his hand. Red paint splashed over his poofy hair and over his stricken face.
“JesusChrist,” he wailed.
Noah yanked him back. Security was coming; he could hear their racing footsteps.
“How much did Mikey pay you?”
Dillion spluttered, paint dripping down his chin. “I-I didn’t do anything!”
“Only because I caught you, jackass.” Noah shoved him toward security, who grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. “Get him out of here.”
Security nodded and started dragging Dillion back down the hall.
Noah turned to Benji, expecting to find him watching Dillion get hauled away. But Benji was looking at Noah, his cheeks still red under a small splash of paint.
Noah wiped it off with his thumb. “You alright?”
“Fine,” Benji said distractedly. “Thank you.”
“I have your back.”
“I know,” Benji whispered. He swallowed, his gaze flickering behind him, and Noah realized what was making him so distracted.
He turned.
It was a close-up. A familiar hand dripping molten gold, reaching down to touch an open mouth that was barely in frame. One golden thumb teased the lower lip, pulling it further open. A drop spilled over from the hand and down the lip, the chin, easing down the start of a neck.
Noah knew that neck. He knew that mouth. He knew them just as well as he knew the hand. The painting was soft and bright, and so reverent it stopped Noah’s breath in his chest.
