Chapter 37 #2
Heath steeled himself, striding across the room with entirely manufactured confidence that petered halfway to his destination.
He changed direction, instead heading over to the buffet tables and bar.
There was a crowd there, a buffer between him and the man now laughing with a group of women who hung on his every word.
“What may I serve you?”
He blinked, having no recollection of getting in line, let alone moving with it. The bartender’s smile wavered slightly at his confusion, which shook at least a few of his brain cells free.
“Another seltzer, please, if you would—and could you serve it in a wineglass?”
If they thought the request odd, they played it off beautifully. Glass in hand, he made his way along the wall to the French doors of the balcony he recalled being the most private and least occupied. At least, those on it were certainly not very interested in what anyone else was doing.
What if this didn’t work? How long would he wait, looking the fool, before calling it a day and running home to sulk?
“You here alone?”
He almost reeled on the asker with a rude retort, but the familiar voice seeped into his bones and cast a languid spell over him instead.
Evan was leaning one shoulder against the wall at his side, his broad shoulders blocking them from the view of the rest of the room.
“No, I’m actually here with someone.”
He made a tsking sound. “They left you all alone in this crowd? Sloppy.”
Heath sipped his drink to mask his smile. “This isn’t really my scene.”
“Mine, either.”
“I find that surprising. You look very comfortable.”
“Even a well-used muscle still feels sore afterward.”
“That is beautifully poignant.”
“Would you like to get some air?”
Heath pretended to mull it over, wondering if the entire room could hear the pounding of his heart and the clacking of his knees as they shook. “I believe I might, yes.”
“Do you always sound like someone in a Bronte novel?”
“Quite often, yes.”
“I like it.”
“Oh, well, thank you.”
“I also really like your ass in those pants.”
Heath spit seltzer over the balcony railing. “I beg your pardon?”
Evan cleared his throat. “I said, ‘I really like Pirates of Penzance.’”
Heath grunted and brushed droplets from his lapels, averting his eyes from the halo of fire cast about Evan’s head by the heat lamp at the far corner of the balcony.
He could see the weariness on his face in this low lighting. The mask he wore while working the floor lay discarded when they were together, just like the rest of the defenses Christian had lamented.
Heath had seen the person hiding behind them. In a remarkable show of trust for a man who lived warily, Evan had let him in and allowed himself to be seen. Foolhardy, since Heath had hardly earned the privilege, but at least he now understood that it was indeed a privilege.
He put his drink on the nearby ledge and pulled on his big boy pants. “I’m sorry about earlier.”
Evan dropped the last of his guise, hitting Heath with the full brunt of his feelings. It was staggering, joyous, and terrifying. “You have every right to be cautious.”
“Yes, but I had no right to purposely hurt you.”
“Is that what you were doing?”
“Yes. No. I don’t actually know. Having you, Christian, and Lucy collide in one place… this evening has been exhausting.”
“Agreed.”
“I’d wondered if I’d see you here. Or ever again, to be honest.”
“I warned you that you wouldn’t get rid of me easily.”
“I have a long and storied history of ignoring warnings.”
“That might actually work in my favor, depending on how many people have warned you away from me.”
“You’re in trouble then, because everyone’s been telling me I’m insane for letting you get away.”
Evan faced him fully and spread his arms to either side. “I’m standing right here, pookie. Haven’t gone anywhere.”
I will not cry at a gala. I will not…
“I am a cranky and deliberately difficult sesquipedalian. Why do you put up with me?”
“I don’t see it as putting up with you, for starters. Also, don’t think it’s a choice. You’re under my skin, Lennox. Maybe the booze made me vulnerable, but you got into my bloodstream the minute you threw yourself into that airplane seat.”
“But why me, of all people? You could have anyone—”
“I don’t want anyone. If anyone would do, I’d have branched out a lot earlier than my fucking forties.
It’s you, Heath. You’re the person who turns me inside out.
You make me feral. Think just anyone could send me to my fucking knees?
Or make me come so hard I black out? Could anyone tell me to suck their dick on the balcony of a fancy charity gala while hundreds of people are milling about? ”
Evan had advanced as he’d spoken, driving them into the shadows until Heath reached the brick facade and had nowhere else to go. Then he’d loomed. Put his hands on the wall on either side of Heath’s head, caging him in warmth and the scent of a subtle, spicy sweetness.
Heath swallowed audibly. “I don’t remember asking you to do that.”
“You can if you want, and I’d do it.”
Letting his head roll back against the wall, Heath uttered a low moan and closed his eyes. He’d missed this. All of this. The tension and chemistry. The witty repartee. He’d missed the quiet comfort of his nearness, and the rightness of them together.
“I think I’d rather steal you away and apologize in person.”
“You don’t have to apologize.”
“What if I want to?”
“Then I expect you to do some shit worth apologizing for on the way home.”
Home? No, he wouldn’t be following that rabbit either. Not yet.
“Your place or mine?”
“Yours. I want to meet all those books you’re always talking about. There’s a little something being added to the collection, and I need to make sure there’s room.”
Heath looked at him with wide eyes. “Tell me you didn’t.”
“I didn’t.”
Relief clashed with crushing disappointment. He could never have accepted such a lavish gift.
“Olivia did.”
“No!”
Tears blurred his vision with such expediency, they were pouring down his cheeks before he had time to react. Evan cupped his face, brushing them away with a sweep of his thumb, and the contact repaired every broken connection he’d felt sparking and causing fires since April.
“It’s a conflict of interest to bid on my own auction. Plus, I know you can’t say no to her.”
“Evan—”
“Consider it a Christmas gift. A fair swap for your copy of Proust.”
“That book is in tatters! That’s not a remotely fair comparison.”
“Actually, I had it re-bound. There’s this guy in New York—”
“Evan!”
“What? You gave it to me. I can do what I want with it.”
Heath covered his face to mute the sound of his crying, but Evan’s hands slipped beneath his, pulling his face forward for the lightest of kisses. “You think you need to apologize when all I want to do is thank you.”
“For what?”
“Showing me who I am.”
“All I’ve done since we met was nag you.”
“New kink unlocked.”
A laugh broke through the tears, and Evan kissed him again, this time with the full force of his appreciation. Heath returned the fervor, setting loose months of missing him with a throaty groan.
He could trust this man. This perfect stranger who’d flipped his world upside down and reminded him that tattered books could always be re-bound. Restored by the love and care of someone who treasured their story.
Even the long, boring, and old ones.