This felt dangerous.
“I find myself drawn to people with dark hair, usually.”
It’d been a long time since Hilliard found himself with anyone at all, hair color notwithstanding. His last relationship had ended several years earlier in a broken engagement, and though it was a mutual decision after growing apart and ultimately wanting different things out of life, Hilliard was in no rush to put his heart through that again.
“People?”
Hilliard’s heart was pounding now.
“Men,” he clarified.
Monty grinned. “Thought so.”
“Who wants to know?” Hilliard asked warily.
“Fred Forsythe.”
“Well, you can tell Fred I’m not interested if he asks again.” Cal’s secretary did have dark hair, but Hilliard was sure he could never be with someone who smoked so much.
“I already told him,” Monty said with a grunt as he adjusted his position on the bed, moving to sit the way Hilliard was with about an arm’s length between them.
“Did you?”
Monty fell back against the padded headboard with a huff.
“Well, I told him I wasn’t interested,” he explained. “We were necking by the pool and I just wasn’t feeling it.” His head lolled to the side and he blinked at Hilliard. “So I came to find you instead.”
Hilliard imagined that speaking to Monty in moments like this was the closest he would ever come to understanding what it was to be a kite. A good strong breeze could send him soaring, but just as quickly, the same gust could falter and cause him to dip dangerously low, twisting and twirling helplessly all the while. He tugged at his coral tie and regarded the door that separated them from the rest of the party.
“I don’t believe for one second that you’d rather be sitting here with me than dancing with someone beautiful and equally as drunk downstairs,” Hilliard told him. Even Valentino had grown bored and wandered away.
“Split the difference and come dance with me, then,” Monty purred.
Hilliard felt his heart lift and fall once again. Monty’s words were coated with his magic, tempting as ever. His experiment with the interview earlier had been temporary. Monty was still Monty, and Hilliard had to protect himself from being casually used by the man he wanted so much that it hurt.
“What do we have here?”
It wasn’t until they both turned to find Edie sauntering over to the bed that Hilliard realized how close they’d gotten to one another.
“We came to pet your kitten,” Monty said with a lazy smirk.
“Ha! Good luck, handsome. Nobody has been near my kitten in years, and I’m lookin’ to keep it that way.” She pursed her painted lips and arched a brow. Her red dress was tight from neck to knees and sparkled even in the relatively low light of the room. “Both of you know better than to be in here.”
“I really did come to visit Valentino, honest,” Hilliard said.
The cat was rubbing himself across Edie’s ankles. She bent to pick him up and flipped him onto his back in the crook of her arm, tickling his chin with a painted pink nail. Her gaze shifted between them, clearly unimpressed.
“Then why are the two of you busy wrinkling up my sheets while he was hiding under the bed?”
“Because,” Monty drawled, his hand landing solidly on Hilliard’s knee, “my friend here isn’t actually interested in kittens in the bedroom. He much prefers–”
“Get up!” Edie demanded, shooing them with her free hand. “Out. Get out of my bed. Go enjoy yourselves absolutely anywhere else but here.”
A mischievous laugh bubbled out of Monty as he pushed Hilliard toward his side of the bed, cursing under his breath. He followed close behind on his knees, crawling across the mattress as both of them scrabbled to their feet like they were being chased, even though Edie never moved.
Monty’s hands remained on Hilliard as they rushed out of the room, both of them cackling now. It was a wonder that they made it down the long, curved staircase at such a clip without Monty tripping over himself. He took the lead when they reached the main floor, weaving between the other partygoers until they were safely outside.
Hilliard’s pulse was racing again, for a different reason than before, until Monty grabbed his hand and tugged him effortlessly into his embrace. He wrapped his arms around Hilliard’s shoulders, tucking his face into the crook of his neck like it was as natural as breathing. At first, Hilliard had grabbed his hips to maintain his balance in the whirl Monty pulled him into. But as the spin became a slower, dance-adjacent sway, Hilliard allowed himself to hold Monty closer.
