“Yes, I know,” Hilliard sighed out. “Seven Celebrity Flings Everybody Saw Coming,” he added in his best put-on broadcaster voice, mocking the most dramatic of the headlines he always tried so hard to avoid. “Top Story: Dreamboat Montgomery Kincaid finally woos his best friend turned co-star turned roommate turned–”
Monty was gazing at him with an affectionate smile that he could feel without even looking.
“What?” Hilliard blurted, stealing a glance in his direction before putting his eyes back on the road.
“So the whole truth, then?” Monty asked warmly.
Hilliard melted a little at the words. His magic had been stirring restlessly for a week, still learning how to accept Monty’s genuine interest after years of pushing it away. It was a fine problem to have, especially as Monty continued to prove that he’d made positive, lasting changes for himself.
“The whole truth,” Hilliard agreed. They could hardly deny it now. Joan would take one look at them and know she’d been on to something all along. There was no going back from this, and Hilliard was glad of it.
Dinner came out of the oven just as Monty emerged from taking a shower. “If I never have to wear a full winter coat in July again, it’ll be too soon,” he moaned in exaggerated exhaustion, claiming his chair at the table.
“But you look so nice all bundled up in your layers against the cold,” Hilliard said over his shoulder as he plated the chicken alongside rice and extra soft butter beans, just the way he liked them. Admittedly, he’d still been revisiting Monty’s comment about a Christmas in Wisconsin.
Hilliard could hear the smirk in Monty’s voice when he replied with, “I look even better without.”
He turned with a plate in each hand, delivering them as he studied the casual clothes Monty had changed into. Spending the holiday in the sun had only deepened his tan, which he was showing off with the sleeves of his thin, mustard yellow sweater pushed up to his elbows. It was almost a shame he’d be taking it right back off.
“Is that right?” Hilliard asked, feigning only mild interest as he took his seat.
Monty wasn’t swayed.
“Don’t pretend you weren’t enjoying the view the other day,” he said as he picked up his cutlery. “I saw you looking.”
“We were all looking, doll.” Hilliard began cutting his chicken, pleased with the consistency of the gravy he’d prepared to go with it. “You made it difficult not to.”
“Would you have preferred I kept it to myself?”
Hilliard’s forehead wrinkled. “What is “it” in this situation, exactly? Your perfect little behind?” Monty’s magic filled the air between them like smoke from a cigarette, slow but potent. He wanted to hear Hilliard’s flattery. Hilliard was happy to give it. “Your rugged physique? Your impossibly handsome face?”
“I did keep my sunglasses on.”
“Oh, to save everyone from your long eyelashes, I suppose?” Hilliard adored his long, dark lashes.
“No,” Monty said, dragging it out. “Because I only have eyes for you.”
Hilliard nearly choked on his mouthful of rice.
“Well,” he huffed after taking a large swallow of sweet tea. “You certainly know how to make a guy feel special.”
“Mostly I just like how corny lines make you squirm.”
Hilliard smiled to himself as Monty went back to his meal. He wouldn’t be the only one writhing under sugared attention soon. They ate mostly in companionable silence, Hilliard growing impatient with anticipation the longer Monty took to clear his plate. He forced himself to pause and count to five after Monty finally set down his fork before collecting the dishes.
“You wash and I’ll dry?” Monty asked after him, rising from the table with far less urgency.
“It can wait,” Hilliard told him. “I made dessert.”
“Oh,” Monty said, sounding pleased and oblivious as he pulled his chair back out.
“Don’t sit.”
Hilliard reached into the refrigerator, grabbing two of the ramekins he’d put inside that morning. The card pulled from his recipe box said a couple of hours was plenty of time for everything to set properly. After the labor of love required to get it right, he sure hoped the appliance had held up its end of the deal. He shut the door with his hip and spun around to find Monty standing in the doorway, equal parts curious and confused.
“What did you make?”
Hilliard’s mouth twitched into a coy smile.
