“For what?” the dude asked.
Tierney turned his mug around by its handle. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“I don’t know, is it?” Dalton’s fingers slid away, back across the table.
God, did he have to say it? “For not telling Ian.”
“Well, I haven’t had a chance, but why are you so sure I won’t?” When Tierney jerked his head up, Dalton was blowing on his drink, as if the subject wasn’t important.
“You won’t.” Tierney swallowed. “Will you?”
Dalton arched his brow.
Tierney was familiar with anger in all its subtle shades, but it still took him a minute to puzzle out the source of Dalton’s irritation. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, I mean, I don’t think you’ll tell him, but . . .” He couldn’t come up with any more explanation. “I didn’t plan on telling you at all.” Lame finish.
Dalton made a face at him, the adult version of sticking out his tongue. “Of course I won’t tell him. I wouldn’t do that. It would be like outing someone.”
Tierney blinked. “There are people who’d do it.”
“Would you? If it was me in your shoes?”
Tierney licked his lip. “I don’t really know you,” he hedged. It was true—they’d only seen each other twice and both times were weird circumstances. It didn’t matter that Tierney felt like he knew the guy better.
Dalton pursed his lips. “You know me as well as I know you.”
Tierney dropped his gaze, running his fingers up and down the sides of his cup. “I might.” He swallowed. “Out you.”
Dalton didn’t respond.
Tierney took a whack at explaining. “You gotta understand, I’m in charge of government affairs and PR for the company, and for us, PR means making sure the local politicians are indebted to us. I use every advantage I have over someone to get what I need. I manipulate people. That kind of attitude bleeds over into my personal life, I guess.”
Dalton eyed him, pinning him like a bug. “Do you have to do your job that way?”
“It’s how I do it.” Tierney shrugged nonchalantly. He hoped. “It’s how I was trained to do it, from freaking birth.” Nice. He’d sounded plenty bitter there.
“I don’t understand.” Dalton’s nose scrunched up, and Tierney found himself fascinated by the tiny details of his expression. The small lines and the way Dalton’s brows pulled in, and how blue his eyes were even in this light.
“Um, Metropolitan Ambulance is a family company,” he explained absently.
“So you were, what, groomed for this position?” More of that nose wrinkling, and now he’d tilted his head so shadows slipped into the hollows of his cheeks and the line of his chin, while the light glinted in his hair.
Dalton had to be the hottest guy he’d ever sat across from. Totally different from Ian, but sexy as hell.
“Tierney?”
Fuck, he was stunning. “Huh?” The shadows shifted again, sliding around to highlight other features of Dalton’s face, like the slight but graceful curve of his temple. For a brief second, Tierney recognized the sensation—kaleidoscopic. Just like the other night when he’d seen Grandfather’s body, things fragmented and changed, showing a new perspective or something like that. A different way to see his world. “Grandfather’s dead.”
Dalton leaned forward, his expression changing into one of concern. “Did you just say your grandfather died?”
“Yeah.” He sat back, shaking himself out of his fog. Christ, he must seem like a huge dork. “Yeah,” he repeated. “I did.”
“Oh.” Dalton’s face went wide—eyes opening farther and his lips parting. “I’m so sorry.”
“’S okay,” Tierney shrugged. “I hated the bastard anyway.” The dude—Dalton, not Grandfather—had a beautiful mouth. Sculpted. His fingers twitched, wanting to feel it and see if it was as smooth as it looked.
But Dalton was pulling back from him and closing up. Crossing his arms over his chest and hardening his jaw, the way he had earlier when Tierney’d pissed him off. What other reactions could he get out of the dude? Happiness? Sympathy? Desire? Affection? I want affection, something whispered inside him, so quietly Tierney could pretend he hadn’t heard anything.
“You do realize that makes you sound like a monumental prick?” Dalton asked, one eyebrow lifting.
“What?” Then it hit him, what he’d said. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, as if that would reset this conversation. Like he could get a do-over. “Just . . . lemme explain?” His mind raced, trying to get a handle on exactly what reason he’d give for hating his grandparent, searching Dalton’s face for clues. Little hints of emotion that might tell Tierney which way to spin this.
Dalton regarded him steadily from under his light brows, lips in a tight, straight line.
Tell him the truth.
No way. He couldn’t do that, could he? He’d never told anyone . . . but Grandfather couldn’t touch him anymore. Tierney may not have a reason to come out, but he could do this much, couldn’t he? Tell someone why. Tell this guy why.
Don’t wanna do it.
He opened his mouth to say something else—pretty much anything—and Dalton was leaning toward him again, wrapping long fingers around his drink.
I care what he thinks.
“Um,” Tierney began, then had to clear his throat. Oh shit, he was going to tell him the truth, wasn’t he? “Um, see, a long time ago, like, before I was born, Grandfather started the ambulance company.”
Some people who said, “I hated my grandfather,” could be given the benefit of the doubt. Dalton would assume they had a justifiable reason for their feelings. In his experience, losing family was too painful for casual hatred, so someone who had personal integrity wouldn’t say that carelessly.
An hour ago, he never would have credited Tierney with having personal integrity; he was only here because the man needed a sympathetic ear. And Dalton’s sympathetic ear had heard something in the time they’d been here. Not words, per se, but hints of someone other than a two-dimensional guy with a skanky libido whose entire self-worth was tied up in designer clothes and a flashy car.
That kept Dalton seated, listening to Tierney talk about how his grandfather had gone from mechanic to ambulance company owner.
As Tierney told his story, more clues fell into place, painting a picture of his past—what had made him the man he was today. It didn’t take long to figure out the grandfather had had a lot of control over Tierney’s life, and that was the root of the hatred.