Chapter 15
Monty
As predicted, Hilliard forced another god-awful prairie oyster on him the following morning. But other than the hangover, Monty was feeling pretty good. It wasn’t until his heart rose at the sight of Hilliard sitting on the edge of his bed that he remembered why he was feeling so good.
Now that he was sober, he felt more of a warm satisfaction than a giddy delight at the knowledge that Hilliard preferred brunettes to blonds and that he preferred men over women.
And in the light of day, he could better analyze his complete lack of interest in Fred Forsythe, despite the fact that the man was attractive and had been willing and able to entertain him.
He hadn’t wanted Forsythe, or Ava, or any of the people at that party who would have readily jumped into bed with him.
He wanted the man sitting next to him, the one who had never accepted his advances in the past.
He thought about his interview with Joan Dupree.
She had asked him what he wanted in a potential partner.
He studied Hilliard’s profile as the man reached down to scratch Henrietta’s chest. He wanted the man who knew his favorite breakfast was pancakes with blueberries—and better yet, knew how to make them.
Monty was not only mildly surprised by this turn of events, he was also troubled by it. Hilliard had never seemed to have anything other than a fondness for him. Could he get Hilliard to desire him, to fall in love with him? He knew his magic wouldn’t do the trick.
“Don’t forget, we’ve got company coming over tonight,” Hilliard said.
“Huh?”
“You invited Cal and Mr. Morgan over to dinner. Remember?”
Monty screwed his eyes shut as he tried to recall the night’s events: Forsythe, strawberry, necking, Hilliard, cat…His eyes flew open.
“Aw, nuts.”
“It was all ‘old buddy, old pal,’ last night,” Hilliard said, chuckling.
Monty rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m surprised they took me up on that.”
“Well, I might have encouraged them. After all, as you pointed out, Ezra did ask that you make an effort.”
He sighed. “You’re right.”
Hilliard patted his thigh and Monty wondered if he’d always felt such a thrill at the other man’s touch. “I’d better get started with the cleaning. Not to mention getting that roast in the oven.”
“You have to put it in the oven now?”
“Pot roasts cook low’n slow.”
“Do you…erm…need any…help?”
“No, thank you, doll. I’ve entertained plenty on my own. You just make sure you drink plenty of water. And maybe stay out of the kitchen when we’re closer to dinner time.”
Monty spent the day fiddling between radio stations and chatting up Hilliard to keep him company as he dusted, swept, mopped, and cooked.
By the time Cal’s sleek car pulled up to the driveway, Monty had changed into a brown wool suit (Hilliard had nixed his joking suggestion of wearing the jeans) and Hilliard had dressed up in a cream-colored shirt with pink pinstripes, khaki slacks, and a floral bow tie to match.
The house was cleaned within an inch of its life and the roast was freshly pulled out of the oven.
Hilliard opened the door and welcomed his guests inside.
Jesse Morgan held up a huge bouquet of flowers. “Thank you for having us over, Mr. Burke.”
Hilliard’s face lit up with a bright and genuine smile. “Thank you, doll. Oh, these are gorgeous. How did you know tulips are my favorite?”
Morgan looked awkward at the compliment until Henrietta barked and ran up to greet the two newcomers. Then his face immediately shifted into one of complete and utter adoration. He swiftly bent to one knee. “Who is this?”
“Henrietta,” Hilliard said proudly.
“Oh, you’re a beautiful girl, aren’t you? Yes, you are!” Morgan cooed. Henrietta went up on her hind legs to try and lick his face. He caught her front paws in his hands and obligingly lowered his cheek for her. “Such a sweet girl too!”
Monty had been staring at Hilliard, who was still admiring his flowers, and wondering if he knew that Hilliard liked receiving flowers.
Did he know that tulips were his friend’s favorite?
But with Morgan gushing about Henrietta, he started to feel a surge of annoyance.
Who did this guy think he was anyway? Coming in here and handing out flowers and getting puppy kisses?
Not that Monty liked puppy kisses; in fact, he carefully avoided them.
But still—Morgan had no right capturing everyone’s hearts.
Cal cleared his throat. “We brought some wine as well. Mr. Morgan doesn’t drink, but I figured the three of us could clean off a bottle.”
“Oh, you got a nice bottle too,” Hilliard said. “I’ll go put this in some ice.”
“I can do that,” Monty said. When Hilliard turned his beaming smile to him, he knew it had been the right decision. He wanted to always be the one to earn Hilliard’s beams.
As he filled up the bucket with ice and salt and carefully uncorked the bottle, he told himself that being irritable with Cal and Morgan would not do him any favors. Besides, them coming to dinner had been his idea, however drunkenly delivered.
Hilliard walked into the kitchen as he was nestling the bottle in the ice bucket and pulled a vase out of one of the cabinets. “You okay, sweetheart?”
“Of course I’m okay. Why shouldn’t I be?”
Hilliard gave him a long look before taking out a pair of kitchen shears and snipping the ends of the flower stalks. “Well, mostly because you looked like you wanted to sock poor Mr. Morgan in the jaw earlier. You know Henrietta loves you best, don’t you?”
Monty forced out a laugh. “Oh, I’m fine. It’s just…um, strange to have people here. I guess I got kinda used to it just being the two of us.”
Hilliard’s smile was soft. “I can understand that.” He arranged the flowers in the vase, fiddling with them. “Don’t these look nice?”
“I didn’t know tulips are your favorite.”
“Didn’t you?”
“No.”
“Well, they aren’t. Daisies are my favorite. But when a guy brings you expensive flowers, you’ve got to be nice about it.” He gave Monty a wink and Monty damn near melted.
“You old charmer.”
“I was bound to pick up some things from living with you.”
Monty gave a genuine laugh at that and followed Hilliard back out to the living room.
He was prepared to be in a better mood, until Morgan started to help set the table and Hilliard was profuse in his compliments.
And then, of course, the guy laid it on thick with his praise of the food and Hilliard was practically effervescent in response.
Monty began to catalog all of the things that made Hilliard smile.
Apparently he’d been remiss in his attempts.
He’d never brought the man flowers and he mostly stayed out of the way when Hilliard was preparing dinner, unless he was given a specific task.
Was he negligent in his compliments of Hilliard’s cooking and baking?
After all, his friend knew which dishes were his favorite by now, so he must’ve given the right amount of compliments. Right?
As he ate through his dinner though, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d told Hilliard how much he loved this dish or that one. He glanced over at the man in question. He’d have to do better, that’s all there was to it.
When he helped clear away the dirty dishes—Cal helped too, surprisingly enough—he noted with interest how gratified Hilliard was.
“I’m sorry we took advantage of your generous invitation,” Cal said as they carefully set the dishes in the sink.
“Huh?” Monty asked, not quite paying attention.
“I know you’re not pleased to have us here. I would have declined but Mr. Morgan was so excited about dinner, and you know Hilliard makes the best food, and—”
“I’m not upset about you being here.”
Cal cocked his head. “Aren’t you? You certainly seemed it.”
“No, I’m just…preoccupied, that’s all.”
Cal sighed and leaned his hip against the counter. “Well, that’s good to know, at least.”
Monty took a more careful look at the man in front of him. Cal Campbell looked exhausted. He realized he’d rarely seen the star without the polish and charm he was so famous for.
“How are you doing?” he asked, surprised by his own genuine tone.
Cal blinked for a moment in response. “I’m okay. Tired. But otherwise, I’m pretty good.”
“How’s the musical life treating you?”
He gave a huff of laughter. “As well as can be expected, I guess. Although I don’t know how well it will treat me when I’ve completely ruined the entire genre.”
Monty rolled his eyes as he turned to the sink and switched the faucet on. “As I said before, you can do everything.”
“Yes, that’s what makes me so annoying. Right?”
“Yep. I’m sure you’re doing better than you think.”
“That’s what Morgan keeps telling me. But with the number of retakes I’m always having to do for Director King, I’m not so sure.”
“They’re a picky one. I have to admit that I kind of miss that. I’ve got Director Chen and she keeps running with the first take. I’m used to more of a warm-up.”
Cal reached around Monty for a tea towel and began drying the dishes. “That’s a good sign though. If she’s going with your first takes, that means you got it right the first time.”
“That’s what Hilliard keeps telling me.”
“How are you liking filming with him?”
Monty grinned. “It’s great. He’s incredible.”
“He is.”
“I think he should be gunning for a leading role, but he keeps telling me he likes the character parts.”
Cal seemed to consider this. “I’d like to see a Hilliard Burke-led picture. He could definitely carry it off.”
“See? That’s what I mean. Maybe you can convince him because I sure can’t.”
“Well, if I still have a career after this catastrophe of a film then—”
“Hey, hey, hey,” Monty said. “Don’t be like that. What’s giving you so much trouble? The singing? You know they’ll just hire someone else if they don’t like your voice, right?”
“The dancing. You said it yourself at the Pink Peacock. I can’t dance. I’ve learned in the past couple of weeks how very true that is.”
Monty blew a raspberry. “I remember quite distinctly that you did your own fencing in that swashbuckler picture.”
Cal looked confused. “Well, sure but—”
“If you can fence, you can dance. Here.” He shut the water off, plucked the towel out of Cal’s grip and dried his hands off, and tossed it on the counter. “What steps are you struggling with? I’ll bet I can help.”
Cal looked past him into the dining room.
Monty sighed and turned the radio up a notch. “Come on. They won’t mind. I’m sure Morgan is waxing poetic about how great the carrots were,” he added, annoyed with how bitter he sounded.
“They were good carrots.”
“Shut up and dance, Campbell.”
Cal laughed and looked down at his feet. After a long moment of hesitation, right when Monty thought the guy would actually chicken out, he hesitantly did a double Buffalo.
“That’s not bad. You’re just a little heavy on your feet, that’s all. Look.” Monty did the step, adding the right amount of bounce. “You gotta move like there’s rubber on the bottom of your shoes. Light. Easy. See?”
Cal watched, forehead creased in concentration. Then he attempted the step again.
“Better!” Monty demonstrated again, scatting out nonsense sounds to the rhythm.
When Cal did the same, Morgan and Hilliard showed up in the doorway.
“Having fun without us?” Morgan teased.
Cal blushed. “Monty was offering to help me a bit with the dancing.”
“Morgan, sweetie,” Monty said, “You’ve got to get this guy to stop talking down about himself. It’s not healthy.”
Morgan laughed. “I’m trying. He’s determined to believe he’s no good. And I thought you agreed to call me Jesse.”
Monty grinned. “See, Campbell? We all believe in you. Stop being such a wet blanket.”
“Montgomery,” Hilliard chided without rancor. “I thought you knew better than to insult dinner guests.”
“Maybe Mr. Kincaid can help us with that one underarm turn?” Jesse said. “It’s been giving us both some stick and no matter how much Mr. Price has us rehearse it, we can’t get it right.”
“Call me Monty. And sure. Price is a brilliant choreographer but he’s a pretty lousy teacher. Show me the step.”
Jesse did. Without thinking, Monty took Hilliard’s hand and led him through the move, explaining as he went.
Soon all four of them were doing underarm turns in the tiny kitchen, with Henrietta yapping and hopping between their legs.
Monty laughed and scooped her up under his arm.
He’d missed the joy he got from dancing.
As they all sat down to eat some well-earned pecan pie with vanilla ice cream, Monty looked around the table at everyone’s pink cheeks and laughing expressions.
He was particularly caught up with Hilliard’s—the man was relaxed, his smile easy and bright.
Monty realized that being friends with Cal and Jesse was a lot easier than he had figured.
And furthermore, it might be the key to winning Hilliard’s heart.
He dug into his dessert, feeling a lightness in his chest that he couldn’t quite put a name to.