“Maybe.” He didn’t lie this time. He spotted the same drunk lingering by the leprechaun statue, his sturdy Irish body radiating trouble. Heath followed the drunk’s gaze across the crowded room to the quartet near the stage. Austin looked up first, meeting his gaze. Little tingling sparks of heat, that he had no clue how to interpret, spread from his chest to the pit of his stomach.
“Go get him.” Jemma pushed him into the crowd as Austin slipped into the sea of moving bodies. Heading Heath’s way. “Condoms and lube are in the bedside drawer. You can thank me later.”
“Which room?”
“Both. Have a good night, honey. Don’t hurt him. He looks like he’ll break if you look at him funny.”
“I know. I’ll be gentle.”
Jemma left him to wind her way through the same crowd to slip into the place Austin had just vacated.
“You came,” Austin said, out of breath when he stopped in front of Heath by the bar. “You look incredible.”
“So do you.” Heath sounded just as out of breath as Austin had. “I’m sorry about this afternoon.”
Austin blinked, he seemed confused. “Oh, that. Don’t worry about it.”
It was Heath’s turn to blink in confusion. There was nothing to worry about? Seriously? Austin had been in so much distress that he’d run away, right into the arms of another man.
Austin smiled, and the song changed to something slower. He draped an arm around Heath’s neck and dragging him onto the dance floor, Austin pressed his body to Heath’s. “Let the rednecks talk.”
Heath wrapped him in his arms and tilted his chin back. Someone started singing in the distance. Oh, Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling… Seemed a strange song for a New Year’s party, Austin’s eyes glimmered with emotion, Heath didn’t know if it was the song or… “Kiss me. Again.”
Not the song.
Heath leaned over and breathed in Austin’s scent. He smelled of… summer grass and night-blooming jasmine and tasted of Irish coffee and… forbidden pleasure.
Austin wrapped around him, his tongue slipping into Heath’s mouth as they moved together on the edge of the dance floor. “I’ve missed you so much,” Austin whispered against his mouth. “Want to make love with you so badly.”
Heath pictured him lying over a four-poster bed with a wedding ring quilt beneath him. Waiting for him with eager kisses and… “I’ve missed you too.”
He had no idea why he said that. They’d only just parted that afternoon after a disastrous kiss.
“Take me…” Austin blinked rapidly and stepped away. He bumped into a big guy who took a swing at him for his trouble.
“Fucker… watch where you’re going.” The guy looked from Austin up to Heath, his eyes narrowing. “Couple of queers. Should have known.” He raised his fist and Heath dragged Austin behind him just as someone caught the guy’s wrist.
The guy screamed like a stuck pig as Rory whipped him around, locking his arm behind his back. “That’s not happening tonight, buddy. Not in here. Take it somewhere else.” Rory leaned over the guy, looming large, and well, Heath was impressed.
“Austin, why don’t you take Mr. Cortlandt over to your table and get him a drink while I deal with this.” Rory’s voice had a strength to it Heath hadn’t expected. The drunken blunt instrument at the end of the bar suddenly became less drunk as he joined Rory to escort the other drunk to the door.
Britney stood on a chair and waved her arms. She almost fell off, but Donna caught her and tried to get her down before Rory had to throw her out too. “Heath. You are so fucking gorgeous. Heath.” She waved frantically. Heath waved back. And Austin caught his hand just as Donna got Britney off the chair, as the two of them worked their way through the dancing crowd.
The spell broken, Austin slipped to the back of the table with people Heath didn’t know. He sipped a cup of coffee, as if that kiss had never happened. Again.
He glanced up at Heath, fire burning in his eyes with a promise that made Heath catch his breath. The night was young and so were they. There would be plenty of time. Jemma dragged him into the seat Rory had vacated. A waitress brought a tray of Guinness and set one in front of him.
Donna got up and switched seats with the guy seated next to Austin. Then Britney played musical chairs with another. And somehow, without actually knowing how it happened, Heath found himself sitting beside Austin. And from this spot, he could see across the pub, to the bar where Rory looked over his shoulder before disappearing into the back, followed closely by the stocky bouncer… way too closely. Austin growled something about a fucking leprechaun as the man shot him a smug grin before disappearing completely.
And just as it had back at the cemetery, every hair on Heath’s body stood on end. “Bad juju,” he whispered, resisting the urge to rub his neck.
“Not even lying,” Austin said beside him. Resting his arm over Heath’s thigh, Austin turned to Heath, his eyes bright and shiny, the smile he’d pasted on so brittle he looked as if he was on the verge of falling apart. “So, Heathcliff Cortlandt… tell me about yourself.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“So, Heathcliff Cortlandt… tell me about yourself.” Jesus, how fucking lame could he be? Austin saw the man cringe at the question. But… Austin couldn’t just haul him out into the cold now to have his way with him. People would know where they were going. And what they’d do once they got there. But that asshole might still be outside. Just waiting for them.
He’d seen Heath die once already. He had no interest in seeing it again. For real this time.
So, he said the first thing he could think of when meeting a new guy. One he might… uh, no might about what he wanted to do with Heath. But not yet. Or now. Or… fuck, he was so fucking confused. And watching the stocky bouncer follow Rory to the back stairs, hadn’t helped ease that confusion… not in the slightest.
Rory didn’t seem to know the guy was alive. But, hell, after this afternoon when Austin had all but had a nervous fucking breakdown in his bed… he didn’t blame Rory for trying to find some relief.
It wasn’t as if Austin meant to tease him. They’d never slept together before they’d moved here. And suddenly that’s all they were doing. Sleeping together. Naked. Body to body. Sharing heat and… and Rory suffered from it. He’d seen him spontaneously nut that one morning. If he needed some leprechaun looking dude to get him off— after Austin had just all but slammed Heath to the floor and fucked him right there. Who was Austin to say a damned thing?
“What do you want to know?” Heath answered the question Austin forgot he’d asked.
“What?” Austin turned to face Heath, blinking to bring him into focus. He forgot his fake it ‘till you make it smile. He forgot that his hand was draped over a thick, hard thigh. And that he was so goddamned horny he could spontaneously combust all over this place.
“You asked me to tell you something about myself. What do you want to know?” Heath shifted his chair so he could put his elbows on the table and leaned close enough to Austin so he didn’t have to shout over the music.
“Oh. Yes. Well. I don’t know. What do you want to tell me? I mean, you don’t have to tell me anything, I guess. I just… know nothing about you, other than that you’re my boss and that suit makes you look like you stepped out of a magazine. And we kissed. A couple of times. So maybe… I don’t know. How old are you? Are you married? Anything you’d like to share.”
Heath blanched, the color draining completely from his face. And just like before, Austin felt the truth of it hit him hard. “You’re married. Oh my god.”
Heath reached for his hand before he could remove it from his leg. “Yes. No. I mean…” He closed his eyes and dragged in a deep breath.
“Don’t kill yourself thinking up a lie. It’s a simple yes or no answer. If you are then you are.”
Heath blinked rapidly, sadness filling his eyes. “I was.”
Dear God, not the whole she died in childbirth story again. Austin didn’t kn
ow if he could suspend belief for that to be a coincidence. “Was? As in, she died having your baby?”
Heath laughed, not really. It was more of a polite noise to fill an embarrassing silence. “No. Nothing so dire. He… cheated on me. And the ink is drying on our divorce papers. So, yes, technically, until the state of California decrees it final, I am still married. But no. I’m not married. Not anymore.”
“Oh.” Austin slumped in his chair, the sadness in the man’s eyes, punching him in the gut. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, me too. I loved him. I thought I loved him. I thought we were perfect for each other. But… his career is in Los Angeles. And mine is in New York. And well, his costar was too tempting, I guess.”
“Co-star?” Of course, someone as attractive as Heath Cortlandt would be married to an actor or a model or someone just as gorgeous as him.
Heath sighed, the sadness in his eyes turned to bitterness. “Felicity Monroe. He was having an affair with her while we were married. Well, even before. We married on the quiet. I’m still surprised that the Paparazzi never flushed us out. But he never stopped using her as his beard. And that’s all I thought she was to him. Until she got pregnant. And now we’re divorcing and…” Heath reached for the drink in front of him. He didn’t seem to care that it wasn’t his. “I was with him on the twenty-third. It was our first anniversary. And…” He shrugged and slugged back the beer.
“And sex was the way he tried to get you back,” Austin said connecting the dots. The man was on the run from something that was obvious. An ex-husband made sense… sort of.
“Pretty much.” Heath looked everywhere, but directly at Austin. His eyes glassy, but hard. “I didn’t find out she was pregnant until after I left him last week. I heard it on the radio. They’re planning a spring wedding. Surprise. We’re still married, technically. No one knows. And he’s in my bed begging me to tear up the divorce papers or re-marry him. And not even two days later, he’s back in California and they’re announcing…” He hung his head and sighed quietly before looking Austin in the eye, finally. “I need something stronger than beer.”
Austin waved a waitress over and ordered two whiskeys, the pain pills be damned. He needed something strong enough to kill the give-a-damn switch in his soul.
The musicians on the stage took a break and the noise level in the pub dropped a few million decibels while they waited for drinks. Austin didn’t know what to say or think or do.
“What about you?” Heath said a bit too loudly as the music died, but before the crowd noise picked up to fill the near silence.
“What about me?” Austin leaned in again. “I’m not married. Not seeing anyone. I graduated Emory in the spring with a brand-new doctorate and you hired me to curate your house. What else is there to tell?”
The drinks came. One whiskey and a soda. Because Rory was a dick. “Well, for someone who isn’t in a relationship, you seem to be incredibly unavailable.”
It was Austin’s turn to sigh. The ginger bouncer still hovered behind Rory. His dark gaze roaming over the crowd. Like he was protecting Rory. “I think he might be… Tell me, you do see that guy behind Rory, right? I’m not hallucinating him. Because right now, I’m not sure if anything is as it seems.”
“The short, stocky individual with the newsboy cap? Yeah. He’s… like a ginger bulldog. Makes a very good bouncer by the looks of him.” Heath didn’t sling back the whiskey, he sipped it, clinking the ice between sips. “He seems possessive.”
“And I seem jealous?” Austin had no idea why it mattered.
“I didn’t say that.” Heath finished his drink and held up his glass when the waitress passed again. She nodded and went off toward the bar. “I’m twenty-nine.”
Austin dragged his attention back to the man sitting beside him. “What?”
“You asked my age, or had you forgotten?”
Austin picked up his soda and sipped, he coughed when the not-exactly-soda, soda burned going down. “Oh god, the bastard put Jack in this.”
“You shouldn’t be drinking with a concussion, anyway. He’s looking out for you.”
“Hiding my liquor in my caffeine isn’t exactly looking out for me.”
Heath took Austin’s drink and tasted. “Not much liquor in here. More Coke than Jack.”
“And that’s the fucking problem, innit? Feckin’ bastard.”
Heath laughed and leaned toward him. His hand resting on Austin’s thigh. Way too close to Austin’s dick for comfort. “He loves you, it’s obvious. And your Irish accent is… unexpected, but adorable.”
Austin stopped sipping his J and mostly C and glared at the man. “I’m not Irish. Not even a little. And I don’t have an accent.”
“If you say so.” Heath leaned closer so he didn’t have to shout over the sound of the band coming back from their break. The fiddle player was too close and the sound of the bow skimming over the strings sent a shiver through Austin… or maybe it was Heath’s hot whiskey-scented breath on his skin making him shiver. “Too much time with your Irish lover rubbed off on you.”
“If he’s my lover, then why are you all over me while he’s watching?” Austin turned his face to whisper back. Their noses bumped.
“Because I want to rub off on you. Or with you. Or… inside you.”
Austin tried not to squeak like the little fraidy mouse he was. He closed his eyes and leaned closer, brushing hot lips… and the fiddle player set his fiddle to screaming and the crowd erupted and scared the ever-living shit out of Austin. He sloshed his drink.
“Feckin’ hell.” Ice-cold liquid ran down his leg while his face flamed with… he had no idea. “Jesus, I… excuse me.” He set what was left of his drink on the table and grabbed a handful of napkins from the table and tried to blot up the spill. He didn’t succeed.
Pushing past his new friends, he squeezed out into the crowd spilling off the dance floor in front of the stage and tried to make his way back to the hallway heading toward the men’s room. He meant to head up to Rory’s apartment to change out of the borrowed pants and into his jeans. The hand on his arm caught him by surprise.
“Hey!” Austin complained, but the hand belonged to Heath and well, he didn’t have a key to the stairwell door, anyway. He shook Heath off without looking at him. He knew what he’d see in his eyes. Why he’d followed him to the back. And right now, Austin wouldn’t say no. And Rory would never forgive him for having sex in his pub. Because… where the hell was Rory, anyway? He was just over by the bar. His ginger bulldog bouncer yapping at his heels. And now, he was nowhere to be seen.
“Come on, let’s get you dried off.” Heath steered him into the restroom, which was surprisingly empty. Or not surprisingly. It was almost as if the fates were conspiring… or the band was really good. It didn’t matter. They were alone in a men’s room in a crowded pub and Austin’s dick was doing way too much thinking.
Heath grabbed a handful of towels out of the paper towel dispenser and started handing them over. “Here. Pat, don’t rub.”
Austin took the towels and folded several together to make them thicker and started blotting. Heath didn’t come near him. He just stood by the paper towel dispenser and looked incredibly out of place.
“That’s a very nice suit, too nice for a pub.” He didn’t mean to sound so damned passive-aggressive about it. Because he wasn’t pressed up against a wall getting… “Uhm, yeah, that didn’t come out right. I’m not usually this much of a jerk.”
“It is a very nice suit. Tom Ford. A designer suit and small-town pub aren’t synonymous. Tom would probably think this is hilarious. I’m not sure. I only met him once. In passing. At the party where I met Clark, now that I think about it.” Heath handed him another wad of towels and leaned back against the wall.
Austin blotted the damp out of the pants he’d borrowed from Rory, unsuccessfully, but it was better. Still cold, but not dripping down his leg anymore. “You met Tom Ford and you are... were married to Clark Dawson. And here you are
in a tiny john, in bumfuck Georgia, that smells like mold and piss… Why? Exactly?”
Heath looked away from him. His storm-blue eyes showing no emotion at all. They should be making out in the stall. Instead, they were standing around being awkward as fuck while Austin patted Coke off his dick.
“I have no idea. I had no actual plans of ever coming down here. Not even for the ribbon-cutting in a few days. I just… got in my car because I wasn’t supposed to be in bed with my husband and ended up here. Looking at portraits… of me. Like I was looking in a damn mirror.”
“I see leprechauns in the mirror in this place. Guess if my mirror showed me a face like yours, I’d be freaked too.” Austin wadded up the towels and tossed them into the trash. He stood up and shook his leg, hoping to unstick the wet spot from his thigh. “Looks like I pissed myself.”
“You live right across the street. You could go change and come right back.” Heath suggested. He seemed to want to stay against the far wall as if the wall would fall down if he wasn’t there holding it up.
“If I go home, I won’t come back.” He remembered the strange scene, he’d walked through that afternoon in the courtyard. Like some waking nightmare. He shivered. No way was he going back over there alone. “And that asshole Rory kicked out earlier, is probably waiting around outside to get back at the fags that got him kicked out. It happens.”
Heath wrapped his arms around his broad chest and stared at the floor. “Not my experience. But I could see why that would be an issue. You’re waiting for Rory to walk you back.”
“No.” Austin leaned against the wall under the window. Wishing he wasn’t broken and maybe taller, so he could climb up and out and escape. “Rory won’t be finished here until around three in the morning. By city ordinance, he has to close at one on weekends. But it still takes a couple of hours to get the place cleaned and his paperwork done. He won’t be dropping into bed until just before the sun rises.”
“And you were going to stay the night?” Heath still didn’t look at him. He sounded… not jealous. Austin didn’t know what he sounded like exactly. Disappointed, maybe.
Into the Gloaming Page 16
