“And no one outside of the university even knows what that means.”
Yeah, that was the problem. He’d had rotten luck in his research as he tried to invent something better than Volcax. It didn’t exist, and he’d spent years figuring that out, though he did learn all sorts of cool stuff about how things burned, blew up, or melted. But rather than talk about that, he dove into their usual round of what-have-you-been-doing questions.
About halfway through her latest tale of coworker stupidity, his phone alarm went off. He thumbed it off, then drained his coffee.
“Gotta go.”
“This early?”
He nodded. It was going to take him hours to get the stage set just right for his show. “I’ll save you a front-row seat. Promise you’ll be there.”
“Of course I’ll be there! This is our weekend. I look forward to it every year.”
“Good, because afterwards….” He swallowed. It was time to take the plunge. “I’ve got something I’d like to tell you. About me. And maybe dating… or something.”
Her brows went up. “Dating…or something?”
“Yeah.” Then, before she could ask any one of the thousands of questions he saw in her expression, he got up from his chair. “Afterwards. Don’t miss it.”
“Like I could miss this now?”
He laughed as he headed off to the main stage. He’d been planning this show for a year now. By tonight, he was going to be the talk of the con.
Chapter 4
IT TOOKJosh two hours to get all his pyrotechnics set right. He went through them twice for his own peace of mind, then again for the hotel manager. Everything was perfect, and his belly was tight with excitement. After a year of planning, this was going to be amazing. He was going to step on stage as a drunk wizard throwing mismatched spells everywhere. But then, when the master of ceremonies tried to throw him out, he would disappear in a burst of multicolored flames.
Thanks to the low balance in his bank account, planning this had been his entertainment for the past year. He’d spent nights dreaming about this glorious moment and days searching for the cheapest, best way to do it. Some might think it lame, but he’d rather spend his time figuring out how to safely blow up a stage than binge-watch the latest Netflix offering.
He was setting his wizard’s staff behind the curtain, stage right, when a deep voice interrupted him going through his mental checklist for the billionth time.
“Josh?”
A shiver went down his spine at the resonant sound of his name. It was the kind of voice used by grand wizards in video games or old trees dispensing wisdom. It silenced every random thought in his head so he could listen, and he quickly turned around to find the source. In so doing he nearly collided with a stripper warrior and Doctor Strange.
They were in costume, obviously, and he really hoped the mesmerizing voice was from the Benedict Cumberbatch wannabe. It would fit with the wizard costume. But even so, his gaze was caught and held by the warrior guy.
The man was huge, as in mountainous. He wore a simple leather vest, no doubt to show off those ripped abs, and surprisingly good quality tearaway pants, hence the “stripper” tag. His face wasn’t model-beautiful, but there was a craggy beauty to it. Hard jaw, slight scruff of a beard, and a sharp cut of a Roman nose. Truthfully, he would have fit better in a Trojan skirt with a sword, but Josh wasn’t quibbling. Honestly, he wanted to get a look at the guy’s legs.
Then there were those eyes. Technically they were brown, but the coolest brown he’d ever seen. There was red and yellow there, and rich, dark mink. Like a hawk’s eyes or a lion’s. Maybe a werewolf from some movie. He got momentarily lost in them, trying to see if they were real or contact lenses.
“Josh Collier?”
Okay, so Warrior Guy was the one with the voice. Sweet. “Next time go for the Roman centurion look. You’ve got the shoulders for a cape, and stripper pants cheapen the look.” Josh grinned. “Besides, skirts are better advertisements anyway.”
He might be new to his own sexual orientation, but he’d learned the lingo at his first con. No one judged preferences here, and the dirty jokes usually worked for any orientation.
But clearly the warrior wasn’t used to conventions, because he blinked in confusion. Eventually he stammered out a “Wh-what? No!” He looked down at his pants. “Not stripping.”
Josh shrugged. “I’m not judging. Well, I guess I am, but just of your costume choice. Hey, if you’ve got the build, I say flaunt it. You probably worked hard to get all that muscle definition.” Then he tried a flirtatious smile.
He was new to flirting with guys and his gaydar wasn’t even close to 100 percent, but anyone who wore stripper pants to a con had to be hoping for something. And Josh wasn’t opposed to testing out the guy-on-guy waters with a con neophyte. Especially one who looked like he could bench-press a bus. And who blushed like he was a vestal virgin.
Wasn’t that adorable?
Then Doctor Strange had to interrupt. His voice was dry, classy, and had the perfect ring of arrogance. “We are here to offer you a job.”
Josh nodded, surreptitiously looking around for whoever was filming this. He saw the regular con staff, but none of them were paying any attention.
