“Pot roasts cook low’n slow.”
“Do you…erm…need any…help?”
“No, thank you, doll. I’ve entertained plenty on my own. You just make sure you drink plenty of water. And maybe stay out of the kitchen when we’re closer to dinner time.”
Monty spent the day fiddling between radio stations and chatting up Hilliard to keep him company as he dusted, swept, mopped, and cooked.
By the time Cal’s sleek car pulled up to the driveway, Monty had changed into a brown wool suit (Hilliard had nixed his joking suggestion of wearing the jeans) and Hilliard had dressed up in a cream-colored shirt with pink pinstripes, khaki slacks, and a floral bow tie to match. The house was cleaned within an inch of its life and the roast was freshly pulled out of the oven.
Hilliard opened the door and welcomed his guests inside.
Jesse Morgan held up a huge bouquet of flowers. “Thank you for having us over, Mr. Burke.”
Hilliard’s face lit up with a bright and genuine smile. “Thank you, doll. Oh, these are gorgeous. How did you know tulips are my favorite?”
Morgan looked awkward at the compliment until Henrietta barked and ran up to greet the two newcomers. Then his face immediately shifted into one of complete and utter adoration. He swiftly bent to one knee. “Who is this?”
“Henrietta,” Hilliard said proudly.
“Oh, you’re a beautiful girl, aren’t you? Yes, you are!” Morgan cooed. Henrietta went up on her hind legs to try and lick his face. He caught her front paws in his hands and obligingly lowered his cheek for her. “Such a sweet girl too!”
Monty had been staring at Hilliard, who was still admiring his flowers, and wondering if he knew that Hilliard liked receiving flowers. Did he know that tulips were his friend’s favorite? But with Morgan gushing about Henrietta, he started to feel a surge of annoyance. Who did this guy think he was anyway? Coming in here and handing out flowers and getting puppy kisses? Not that Monty liked puppy kisses; in fact, he carefully avoided them. But still—Morgan had no right capturing everyone’s hearts.
Cal cleared his throat. “We brought some wine as well. Mr. Morgan doesn’t drink, but I figured the three of us could clean off a bottle.”
“Oh, you got a nice bottle too,” Hilliard said. “I’ll go put this in some ice.”
“I can do that,” Monty said. When Hilliard turned his beaming smile to him, he knew it had been the right decision. He wanted to always be the one to earn Hilliard’s beams.
As he filled up the bucket with ice and salt and carefully uncorked the bottle, he told himself that being irritable with Cal and Morgan would not do him any favors. Besides, them coming to dinner had been his idea, however drunkenly delivered.
Hilliard walked into the kitchen as he was nestling the bottle in the ice bucket and pulled a vase out of one of the cabinets. “You okay, sweetheart?”
“Of course I’m okay. Why shouldn’t I be?”
Hilliard gave him a long look before taking out a pair of kitchen shears and snipping the ends of the flower stalks. “Well, mostly because you looked like you wanted to sock poor Mr. Morgan in the jaw earlier. You know Henrietta loves you best, don’t you?”
Monty forced out a laugh. “Oh, I’m fine. It’s just…um, strange to have people here. I guess I got kinda used to it just being the two of us.”
Hilliard’s smile was soft. “I can understand that.” He arranged the flowers in the vase, fiddling with them. “Don’t these look nice?”
“I didn’t know tulips are your favorite.”
“Didn’t you?”
“No.”
“Well, they aren’t. Daisies are my favorite. But when a guy brings you expensive flowers, you’ve got to be nice about it.” He gave Monty a wink and Monty damn near melted.
“You old charmer.”
“I was bound to pick up some things from living with you.”
Monty gave a genuine laugh at that and followed Hilliard back out to the living room. He was prepared to be in a better mood, until Morgan started to help set the table and Hilliard was profuse in his compliments. And then, of course, the guy laid it on thick with his praise of the food and Hilliard was practically effervescent in response.
Monty began to catalog all of the things that made Hilliard smile. Apparently he’d been remiss in his attempts. He’d never brought the man flowers and he mostly stayed out of the way when Hilliard was preparing dinner, unless he was given a specific task. Was he negligent in his compliments of Hilliard’s cooking and baking? After all, his friend knew which dishes were his favorite by now, so he must’ve given the right amount of compliments. Right?
As he ate through his dinner though, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d told Hilliard how much he loved this dish or that one. He glanced over at the man in question. He’d have to do better, that’s all there was to it.
