Chapter 16
Cal
Cal didn’t know what had possessed him to follow Morgan onto the dance floor. He was no dancer; his co-star knew that better than anyone (aside from Mr. Price). And yet, there he was, tentatively holding out his hand for Morgan to take.
Morgan laughed, took the offered hand, and spun himself under Cal’s arm.
Cal’s insides went fizzy at the sight. He’d seen the other man dancing plenty of times, but it was nothing like watching Morgan dancing without constraint or choreography.
He closed his eyes, a happy smile on his face as he kicked one foot in the air.
Then his body moved to the music. But unlike the other dancers on the floor who were moving to the rhythm, Morgan seemed to let the music carry him on its own.
It was like the man was being held aloft by invisible strings attached to each joint.
He moved as if gravity didn’t exist. His legs bounced, his feet were light, and—most importantly—his smile was so broad and so carefree that Cal found himself unable to look away.
So there he was, in the middle of the dance floor, attempting to look like he gave a hoot about dancing himself, all while blatantly staring at the man before him.
Morgan caught him staring and gave the hand that was still clasped in his own—how had Cal forgotten that?
—a gentle tug, pulling Cal closer, and then a light push to send Cal a step away.
He did his best to follow the other man’s guidance, finding it easier than he might have expected. Or maybe he was just so transfixed by the sight of Morgan completely in his element that he didn’t have any awareness to spare for himself.
They didn’t stop until the band took a break, but Cal couldn’t bring himself to mind too much. In fact, he was almost sad that the music stopped, even if he did desperately need to sit down.
Morgan grinned at him and gave him a playful shove with his shoulder. “See? I knew you had it in you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I practically just stood there the whole time.”
The other man chuckled as they trailed the rest of the dancers off the floor. “Nah, you’re real good at following. Honest.”
Even though he knew Morgan was just being nice, Cal felt the compliment deep in his core. Since when had he been the type of person to need a compliment? All he knew was that he wanted to impress Morgan. He wanted that blissful smile turned in his direction again.
“Do you think they have any more of those chocolate-covered cashews?” Morgan asked.
“Let’s find out.”
Predictably, the buffet table was surrounded by hungry dancers taking advantage of the break in the music to refuel. But Cal quickly located the cashews and plucked the entire bowl out of the spread.
“I can’t take the whole thing!” Morgan said, laughing.
“Sure you can,” Cal said bracingly, far too pleased at having earned that joy on Morgan’s face.
Morgan tucked the bowl against his chest with a mischievous grin. “Okay. Let’s find a better place to go eat them.”
Cal put a hand to his upper back and steered him toward a smaller sitting room.
It was where he usually sought sanctuary at these sorts of parties—too far from the dance floor to hear the music and too brightly lit to be appropriate for the shenanigans happening by the pool.
It was also a little too small for a lot of people, so it was typically fairly empty.
When they walked in, the only other people in it were Hilliard Burke and Montgomery Kincaid.
They were sharing a loveseat, with Monty draped against Hilliard’s shoulder, obviously drunk.
Cal began to regret his choice of location, fearful of another scene, but then Monty gave them a cheerful wave.
“Well, if it isn’t my old pal, Cal Campbell,” he said.
Hilliard raised an eyebrow at his friend but didn’t otherwise move. Cal noticed that there was an empty plate at Monty’s feet and that Hilliard was still picking at the plate on his lap.
“How’s it going, old buddy?” Monty slurred before turning his face to giggle into Hilliard’s shoulder.
“Montgomery, let them enjoy the party,” Hilliard scolded gently.
“I’m just being friendly,” Monty protested. “We’re friends now, aren’t we, Cal?”
“Are we?” Cal asked carefully.
“Sure we are! That’s what Ezra says. And what they say—” Monty made a slashing motion with his hand, “—goes.”
Cal shared a look with Morgan, who seemed amused. The other man shrugged and took an empty chair. Resigned, Cal did the same.
“How’s filming going?” Hilliard asked, picking up an empanada and splitting it in half. Wordlessly, he handed one piece to Monty and popped the other in his mouth.
“It’s going,” Cal said. “I don’t know how you do these sorts of films all the time, Monty. It’s exhausting.”
Monty chomped on his half of the empanada. “You got King, right?”
Cal nodded.
Monty grunted. “They’re tough. He exhausts me too. So it isn’t just you, old buddy, old pal.”
Hilliard cleared his throat and shifted slightly. His arm was draped around the back of the loveseat and his hand came to rest on Monty’s shoulder in a protective sort of way. “Someone drank their weight in cocktails before eating anything.”
“Ah,” Cal said.
“I am not that drunk.”
Hilliard’s expression suggested they’d already had this debate. “And how are you liking the job, Mr. Morgan?” he asked politely.
Morgan finished chewing the cashew he’d just eaten. “I like it. It’s a lot of work, but it’s interesting. I’m certainly never bored.”
“And how do you like working with Cal?” Hilliard asked. “You got a heckuva co-star for your first picture. He’s one of the best in the business.”
Morgan smiled and glanced at Cal, his cheeks pinking up. “He’s great.”
Hilliard’s smile was a little too knowing for Cal’s taste. “And how are things going for you?” Cal asked pointedly.
Hilliard handed Monty a chocolate-filled, bacon-wrapped date before he answered. “It’s going well. Not sure you’ve heard, but Monty’s bunking down with me for a little while.”
“We’re soooo cozy,” Monty said, snuggling against Hilliard and smiling happily. “Aren’t we, Hilliard?”
“Sure we are, doll,” Hilliard said, looking amused.
“Hilliard wants to invite you over for dinner so we can be friends,” Monty said and then hiccuped.
“I thought we already were friends,” Hilliard said in a teasing tone.
“We are,” Monty crowed.
Hilliard patted Monty’s shoulder affectionately. “Drunkenness aside,” he said, “we would love to have you both for dinner.”
“That would be nice,” Cal said. “It’s been ages since I’ve been to your place.”
“Will you bake them a pie, Hilliard?” Monty asked, plucking something off of the plate on Hilliard’s lap. “Hilliard loves making pies. Do you like pies, Mr. Morgan? Can I call you Jesse?”
“I prefer Jesse, actually,” Morgan said. “And sure, I love pies. My mom used to bake them a lot when I was younger.”
Hilliard’s smile was soft. “I’ll bet you’re just hankering for some good old-fashioned home cooking then, aren’t you, doll?”
“You might say that.”
“Are you sure this will still sound like a good idea when everyone’s sober?” Cal asked, nodding a little in Monty’s direction. Monty had closed his eyes.
“Well, Ezra has given the directive that we should all be friends,” Hilliard said. “So you might not have quite as warm a welcome from this one, but we’ll both be pleased as punch to have you over. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”
Monty hummed in agreement.
“If you say so,” Cal said.
“Old buddy, old pal,” Monty murmured, eyes still closed. “Come over tomorrow. I’ll be sober by then.” His weight shifted in such a way as to suggest that he’d lost consciousness.
Hilliard laughed. “Not a bad idea, actually. I think there’s quite a lot happening next weekend for all of us. And if you’re anywhere near as tired after a day of filming as I am, I can’t imagine you’d want to come over during the week.”
Cal and Morgan exchanged a glance. “Tomorrow works for me,” Morgan said.
“I’ll have to check with Fred, but I should be able to do that.”
“Can I bring anything?” Morgan asked.
Hilliard grinned. “No, thank you, doll. Just your own sweet self is enough. I’ll put this one to work making a salad. And I found a great recipe for pecan pie I’d like to try out. You like pot roast?”
Morgan moaned in a way that made Cal have to cross his legs. “Do I ever. It’s been way too long since I’ve had one.”
“We’ll fix that tomorrow,” Hilliard said decisively. He took a deep breath and then huffed it out. “In the meantime, I’d better get this guy home to bed.”
Cal and Morgan helped Hilliard get his friend into the car then stood together to watch Hilliard drive away.
“I think the last thing I expected out of this party was an invitation to a home-cooked meal,” Morgan said after a long moment. “Mr. Burke seems very nice.”
“He is. One of the nicest guys in this town, I think.”
“Mr. Kincaid was almost more charming when drunk than when he was actually putting in the effort,” Morgan said with a light laugh. “Do you think he’ll actually be happy to see us tomorrow?”
“I guess we’ll find out.”