For the five or so seconds it lasted, Tierney could only stare at the shape of Dalton’s lips, which led to his jawline, and that curved up to Dalton’s cheek and then his temple, where his bangs obscured the arch of his brow because he was looking at Tierney in a way that, on anyone else, he’d think was coy, but on this guy was just cute.
“Doesn’t your hair get tangled in your eyelashes?”
Dalton’s nose wrinkled up. “Um, every once in a while.”
“Did I really ask you that?”
“You did.” Dalton smiled at him.
“See? Told you I’m a freak.”
Dalton had found Tierney’s car to be just as swank inside as outside. Leather everywhere, heated seats, the fanciest stereo, and lots of switches and dials and knobs that did God knew what. His urge to climb over to the driver’s side, straddle Tierney’s lap and then push a few of the man’s buttons was so, so wrong.
He’d managed to avoid the temptation, but when their talk was over, he nearly turned and kissed Tierney before climbing out. Not simply a friend kiss, either. One of those kisses that people shared after having an intimate, emotional conversation. He froze a moment, long enough for Tierney to leave the car, then come around to Dalton’s side and pull his door open.
“I’ll walk you back,” he said as Dalton finally stood. Oh, that didn’t feel like a more-than-platonic gesture or anything. While they made their way across the garage, Dalton resolved to stop this—stop overthinking the casual touches and reading into every little thing.
“Thank you,” he said when they stood next to his parking spot. He didn’t squelch his urge to lean forward and kiss Tierney on the cheek. It’s just a friend thing. See? They could totally do that. Too bad he couldn’t look at Tierney after it, instead focusing on getting his keys out of his coat pocket.
“Welcome,” Tierney croaked, then cleared his throat. “Be careful.”
Dalton jerked his head up, trying to figure out what he needed to be concerned about. Oh, he could see a lot of the green of Tierney’s eyes under these lights.
“Just in case that fruit basket isn’t totally innocent. Promise me you’ll be careful.”
“Of course.” He nodded to add weight to the words. His pulse thumped a couple times in agreement.
Tierney pressed his lips into a straight line while glancing around the garage. “And call or text me if anything else weird happens.”
“I will, I promise. And anytime you need a friend, use my number.” Hitting the button to unlock his car, he got in with more haste than grace.
“I will, I promise.” Tierney smiled.
“Good.”
“Go,” Tierney said, another repeat of Dalton’s own words, but from much further back. From the morning he left for Dunthorpe. Dalton could only nod and close his door, very aware of Tierney watching while he put on his seat belt and started the car. At the garage exit, in his rearview mirror, he could still see Tierney standing there.
Tierney’s worst hangover ever began to look like a picnic in the park compared to dinner at his parents’ place post-Dunthorpe, post–coming out. He’d really been hoping for a one-course meal in the breakfast nook.
Hoping, but not expecting.
They sat down to potato soup in the formal dining room, at the table that could seat twenty if necessary. Agatha brought in each course from the kitchen.
Through with the basic pleasantries, now they were eating in almost comfortable silence. But he could feel The Conversation looming over them. He poked at a piece of celery floating in his bowl, watching his mother pour herself another glass of wine out of the corner of his eye.
God, I want a drink.
He picked up his goblet of ice water and pretended. May as well get the ball rolling. Tierney opened his mouth to say something—he didn’t know what, maybe ask if they wanted to know about his “vacation.” Before he could work it out, the housekeeper shuffled in through the swinging door, carrying a giant mountain of roast on a plate.
“Agatha!” Mother shouted.
The woman kept inching toward them, like a very slow steam engine. She couldn’t see Mother waving at her because her head was nearly in the meat. In her old age, she’d become more and more hunched, as if always standing over the stove peering at her white sauce. Still a good fifteen feet from the table, she heaved a sigh and paused a second. Winded?
“A-ga-tha!” Mother bellowed when the old lady started moving again.
The housekeeper stopped so fast she teetered and the roast slid forward on the plate, pushing a few carrot medallions right up to the rim of the platter, where they peeked over like tiny lemmings. “Eh, ma’am?” she shouted at Mother.
Mother leaned toward her. “No one rang for the main course!”
Agatha drew herself up to her full height. “I’ve never done your laundry, and I’m too damned old to start now.”
Tierney didn’t bother trying to speak to Agatha until he reached her and took her arm to lead her to the table. “Mother just said we aren’t quite ready for the roast yet, but since you’re here we’ll be happy to take it,” he said directly into her ear.
She pulled away from him slightly to gawk in his face. “Then why did she ring for it?”
He had to lean to the side to counterbalance her and keep them moving.
“I didn’t ring!” Mother screeched.
“She was confused,” Tierney told Agatha.
“I’m not confused.”
“There’s no need to shout, ma’am. I can hear you just fine,” Agatha snapped. They reached the table and she half dropped the meat on it, making the water goblets tremble and slosh. “Here you go, young man.” She beamed at Tierney and pinched his cheek. “I made your favorite, beef roast and green beans.”
“Jesus Christ,” muttered Father.
“Thank you,” Tierney said, as soon as his face was free from her fingers. He loved the way she made beans, with garlic and that squeeze of lemon juice. She beamed and turned around—taking ten feet or so to do it—hobbling back out of the room.
“It might be time to think about forcing her to retire,” he said to his parents as he sat down again.
Mother scowled. Father rolled his eyes. “You try talking her into it. She listens to you more than either of us.”
Ha. Agatha didn’t listen to anyone.
“Darling, are you sure you wouldn’t like some chardonnay?” his mother asked, startling him into fumbling his water.