Hilliard blushed but didn’t hide it. “I imagine that was your intent.”
“Well, when you’ve got it…”
Hilliard raised an eyebrow at him. “No one ever said you didn’t have it.”
But what I really want is you was what Monty wanted to say. Instead, he said, “Doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy the attention.” He turned more fully toward Hilliard and hooked a finger under Hilliard’s suspenders and tugged him closer. “Especially yours.”
Cal chose that moment to join them.
“About time you showed up,” Monty teased as he passed Cal his drink.
Now that the last member of their party had finally arrived, Monty was tired of standing around. As soon as there was a decent lull in the conversation, he put both his and Hilliard’s drinks on the bar, took Hilliard’s hands in his, and coaxed him to the dance floor.
Hilliard let him. His expression was unmistakably fond as he followed. “You really will make headlines with that outfit,” he said.
Monty wiggled his hips with a grin in response. “As long as they get a decent picture of both of us, I don’t mind.”
Hilliard chuckled and slid his arm around Monty’s waist, pulling him close. “Trouble, that’s what you are.”
“Your favorite kind.”
“Don’t I know it.”
Monty wrapped his arms behind Hilliard’s neck and kissed him.
“As long as you don’t get dragged in front of Ezra again, I won’t complain.”
Monty felt the breath whoosh out of him at the words. For a brief moment, he wondered if getting into trouble again would force him back into Hilliard’s home for a longer stretch. The risk almost seemed worth it. He studied Hilliard’s expression. He couldn’t disappoint him. That was the very least he owed his friend. So before he could do something stupid, like cry or beg Hilliard to let him stay, he forced a laugh and kissed him again.
“No promises,” he said with a wink.
Cal took Jesse home, which was unsurprising, and a relief, as that had been Monty’s hope. The drive to Hilliard’s house was as quiet as it had been that afternoon, but with less tension. Monty felt sore and tired from dancing for hours, and his body felt loose in the way that alcohol and dancing can provide. Once again, he found himself staring at Hilliard as he drove. He had planned to make a whole production of going to bed together, maybe make Hilliard peel the denim off of him. But as he stared at Hilliard’s softly contented face, he knew he couldn’t do it. Because all he really wanted was to curl up in bed next to the man he loved, and feel safe and found while he still could.
So when they got home, they each undressed and showered with no fanfare and no teasing. It was just as well, as Hilliard seemed too exhausted from dancing to handle any seduction. Monty climbed into bed and patted the coverlet. Henrietta hopped up and took her usual spot against his hip while Monty snuggled close to Hilliard.
Hilliard wrapped him up tightly in his arms, as if nothing had changed, as if their time together wasn’t ending soon. “You spoil her,” he murmured in Monty’s hair.
Monty smiled against Hilliard’s chest. “She deserves it. She’s such a good girl.”
“Seems like your plan worked.”
“What plan?”
“Jesse and Cal.”
“Oh that! Of course it did.”
Hilliard chuckled. “So modest.”
“You love it.”
There was the barest pause before Hilliard said, “Yes, I do.” Before Monty could say anything else, Hilliard kissed the top of his head. “Goodnight, sugar. I’m so proud of you.”
Monty buried his face against Hilliard’s shoulder and breathed in the fresh scent of Hilliard’s soap. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” he mumbled. He took a deep breath and added, “It’s meant a lot to me, you know, your help. I don’t think I’ve said that enough.”
“Well, to borrow your own line: that’s what friends do.”
Monty bit his lip to keep himself from crying and saying some truly embarrassing truths. Hilliard had helped him because he was his friend, and that’s what friends do. But Monty wanted more than that. He wanted everything. And he couldn't help but feel that he’d somehow missed his chance to get it.
