“Lance Bradford, oh my god!” Claire’s voice is warm honey as she spots me. Before I can even brace myself, she’s out of her seat and wrapping me in a full-body hug, her sweet perfume wrapping around me. Her arms squeeze tight around my shoulders, and one hand lingers a little too long on my back. It’s friendly. Too friendly. My skin goes tight with awkwardness.
I pat her back once and immediately step away the second social etiquette allows it.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch George’s jaw flex hard, just once. The tension in his shoulders is subtle, but it’s there.
Marcus starts introducing everyone, mostly for George’s benefit. By the time the conversation settles, I lean slightly toward him.
“It’s nothing,” I murmur. “Old habit. She hugs everyone like that.”
George gives a short grunt.
The sound settles heavy in my chest. I shift closer under the table, keeping my voice low. “I’ll make it up to you later.”
He doesn’t respond. So I lean in even closer, sliding my hand discreetly beneath the table to brush along his inner thigh, then cup him lightly over his jeans. “Properly.”
That finally pulls the tiniest twitch at the corner of his mouth. Barely there, but I’ll take the win.
George takes the same hand, squeezes it once, then stands up. “I’ll get us some drinks.”
He heads toward the bar without waiting for permission or objection, like he needs an excuse to get away.
The second he’s gone, Marcus turns his attention to me. He waits a little until Brent gets distracted talking to one of the other lawyers before speaking.
“I didn’t realize ‘friends’ now encompasses climbing into each other’s lungs, in the middle of a public parking lot,” he comments dryly. “You two were seconds away from providing the whole block free adult entertainment.”
“Marcus,” I sigh, rubbing a hand over my face.
“What? I’m phrasing this as diplomatically as I can.”
“Ha! You’re hilarious.”
“And,” he continues, lowering his voice further, “I had no idea you’re into men.”
That catches me off guard.
“Recent development,” I simply say, but I stop myself. I’m done letting it be the easy answer. “No, not recent.”
Marcus studies me for a second too long.
“Is this serious?” he asks finally. “Should I be worried that it is?”
George and I haven’t even talked about it yet, but I tell Marcus my truth.
“He’s not just some guy, Marcus,” I argue, giving him a small smile. “It’s…more.”
Obvious concern flashes fast on his face.
“You should find someone you actually want to do this kind of shit with too.” I catch myself before I get any more specific. “You know. Normal adult stuff.”
He still doesn’t look reassured. If anything, his expression darkens. I swear I see bloody murder in his eyes at the mention of “finding someone.”
George shows up again a minute later and sets my drink down in front of me without a word. I take it gratefully, already counting down the minutes until we can escape this fancy booth and I can get my hands on him somewhere private.
But we’re here for Marcus, even with the unexpected and somewhat unwanted company.
“So,” I say out loud to the rest, forcing a smile, “How was the panel?”
“Productive,” Brent declares, leaning back in his chair with that polished, slightly superior smile he wears like a second skin. “Marcus gave a very…passionate talk on ethical boundaries in client representation. Quite the performance. Some of us felt it was perhaps a touch dramatic for the venue, but what can you do? Your brother’s so opinionated on a lot of subjects.”
