“I don’t know,” Hilliard said in a thoughtful tone. “I’d prefer to leave with you. I think if you wear those, other people might be too tempted to peel them off of you.”
“Oh, well, can’t have that.”
They spent the afternoon in their typical way: Hilliard puttered around the house, cleaning things. He baked a loaf of chocolate zucchini bread while Monty read out crossword puzzle clues for them to solve. When the sky started to darken, they changed into party attire.
The guest bedroom had essentially become Monty’s closet, considering he hadn’t slept in the room in days. He picked out a red and white striped sports jacket to fit the theme and to subtly match Hilliard, and white trousers to match. As he slipped the jacket on, he began to look with dread at the prospect of leaving the house. Even worse, he wasn’t sure he wanted to share what he had with Hilliard with anyone else. It still felt too precious. He didn’t want anyone to see them kiss and think it was simply a product of the party’s influence. Even less did he want someone to make a pass at either of them. But they’d already made the plans. They were going.
Hilliard was already ready to go, dressed in a pressed gingham shirt with a bolo tie to match the look. He eyed Monty’s outfit appreciatively.
“Maybe it isn’t the denim. Maybe it’s just you. Because I want to peel that off of you right now.”
Monty hooked a finger under the bolo tie and gently tugged Hilliard closer. “What a coincidence. I was thinking the same thing about you.”
“Should we change then? Protect the populace from temptation?”
“It would be charitable of us,” Monty said. He twiddled the tie around his finger. “But we went through all the work to get dressed, and to the theme. Seems like a waste.”
“True. Besides, I imagine everyone will be too drunk or too busy to notice us anyway. Shall we?” Hilliard moved to put a hand on the doorknob. “We should probably leave if we don’t want to get stuck in traffic.”
“The traffic will be rough.”
Something in his tone made Hilliard turn. “And of course, we’ll still have to make some sort of statement later if we want people to really know.”
“Hm. That’s a good point. But the food will be good.”
“Yes, I’m intrigued by the theme.” Hilliard turned the doorknob.
“But I’m sure whatever they’re serving won’t be as good as whatever you’d make. I think picnic food is best when it’s homemade. Don’t you?”
“To be sure.” Hilliard’s hand slid off the doorknob again. “I’m very picky, as y0u know.”
“I’d hate for you to ruin your appetite with sub-par fried chicken.”
“It’s an art.”
Monty grinned. “It’s going to be pretty crowded too. Far too loud to sit and talk like we usually do. I don’t think you’d be interested in necking with all those people around.”
“Yeah, I’d prefer not. And I did just make that zucchini bread.”
“We couldn’t possibly let fresh zucchini bread go to waste. And of course, there’s Henrietta.”
“It would be too bad if we left her alone again.”
“And we never finished that crossword puzzle.”
“I have a whole book of those, you know.”
Monty brightened. “No kidding?”
“I bought it for the beach, but never got around to it.” He tilted his head and looked at Monty affectionately. “So I guess we just can’t make it to the party.”
“What with the traffic and the fried chicken and the crossword puzzles and the zucchini bread and the dog…it’s just not in the cards tonight.”
Hilliard slid his arm around Monty’s waist. “What a shame.”
“It really is. I was looking forward to it.” Monty kissed him. “But these things can’t be helped.”
“Sometimes duty calls and you have to stay at home.”
