Monty chugged the drink and winced at the taste—he’d never been too keen on bourbon. They set their empty glasses aside and then Monty was being pulled to an empty chaise lounge. The other man didn’t seem to be in any hurry. He pulled a cigarette case out of his pocket and lit one. He offered it to Monty, who shook his head. Unperturbed, Forsythe braced one hand behind him on the lounge chair and smoked the cigarette, taking long drags of it and blowing the smoke out slowly.
“I’m surprised you’re not here with Mr. Burke. From what Joanie described, you two are inseparable now.”
“Oh, he’s here.”
Forsythe arched an eyebrow. “Is he? And he’s fine with you…” He gestured between them.
“We’re not together, not like that,” Monty said. Although something in him twinged at the words. It sounded so flippant when he said it that way. As if Hilliard wasn’t his best friend, as if he wasn’t constantly rescuing Monty from his own mistakes, as if he wasn’t Monty’s favorite person. As if he didn’t make Monty feel at home, no matter where they were. As if Monty didn’t feel safest when he was around.
“You sure about that? The look in your eyes says otherwise.”
Monty waved his hand. “Sure, I’m sure.”
“So if Mr. Burke is currently straddling some blonde bombshell right now, you won’t be bothered?”
Monty felt a bit sick at the mental image. “He’s not into girls. I don’t think.”
“Okay, then let’s call it a blond hunk. Still not bothered?”
Monty swallowed against the nausea. “Nope.”
Forsythe chuckled. “You’re adorable.”
There was something in his tone that told Monty he was definitely not about to get laid after all. He looked at his companion, who was still relaxed beside him, only now the expression on his face was one of amusement.
Monty studied him for a moment. “If you thought I was with Hilliard, why did you make a move on me?”
“I was curious. I figured if I was wrong, I’d have a good time. If I was right, I’d have an entertaining time. Either way, I have fun.”
“I feel like I should be insulted by that.”
“Are you?”
Monty considered. While he pondered, a waitperson offered another tray of drinks and he grabbed one without thinking and took a sip. Gin and tonic—a definite improvement. “We’re not together,” he said at last.
“If you say so.”
“Though I am worried about how he’s doing.”
“Mm. Feel the need to check up on him? Make sure he’s not straddling some?—”
“Okay, okay, enough of that.”
Forsythe snickered as he blew out more smoke. “Fucking adorable.”
“I think you’re a bit of a jerk.”
Forsythe shrugged. “Probably.”
Monty drained his glass and set it down. “At least you’re not sore at me for not being…interested. Or as interested as I thought I was.”
“Nope. Not sore at all. Ava Parker’s been making moon eyes at me from across the pool so I’ll be fine. Weren’t you two an item a while back?”
Monty nodded. “She’s sweet.”
“That she is. Not as sweet as Hilliard Burke. But who is?”
Monty glared at him. “You’re not going to stop harping on that tune, are you?”
