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“Are you all right, Barrett?”
He blinked, shaking from the stupor. Ambrose hadn’t sat up from that lazy, almost careless pose, the lines of his body sensuous and enticing. But those grey eyes had snapped into focus and all of it bore down on him. It was difficult to not shiver under the weight of that stare. “Yeah. I uh…” He licked his lips, chased the taste of whisky there. “I don’t know what I was really thinking about. Just drifting, I suppose.”
It was a soft white lie, nothing devastating. If Ambrose noticed, he made no move of it. “It’s a good night for that. I saw robins the other day and the air’s getting that headiness to it.” He cracked a toothy smile and Barrett had to tighten his grip on the arm of his chair. Fuck. This wasn’t fair. “Spring’s perfume, I suppose.”
“Just wait,” Barrett replied, voice thick. “It rains like crazy every spring. Best check your basement. I know Perry did a lot of work down there, but still. Roots, stones, all of it gets pretty adamant about cracking foundations.”
“Good to know. Thank you.” Ambrose drained his glass and tipped it at Barrett. “I was hoping you’d point me to some good spots to see the spring foliage from. I’m finding myself in need of some inspiration.”
“New project?” Barrett leaned forward, curious. He’d come to find out, over casual dinners and drinks during the last month or so, that Ambrose was the modern era version of a renaissance man. A deft hand at many things, not excluding painting, music, photography, and writing. It was stunning, really, to meet someone so talented and yet so cautious about airing those skills to the world.
“Unfortunately, no.” Ambrose went stiff in his seat by the fire. Barrett could practically see the chair vibrate from the force of his ramrod posture. “It may be a tad early in our friendship for me to expose such a deep character flaw -”
“Ambrose.” He almost reached out, but thought better of it. He didn’t want to make the man uncomfortable, any more than his downcast gaze seemed to bely. “You don’t have to share anything you don’t want to. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”
Ambrose huffed but it wasn’t an angry noise. “No, no. It’s not that at all. I rather enjoy having someone to talk to about all this. I’m just not used to sharing except with Raf.”
He’d mentioned the name Raf a few times and this seemed to be a diversion he was willing to walk down. “Yeah, you’ve said his name a bit. Good friend?”
“The best, honestly. We just don’t see each other much. Twice a year, once on his birthday, once on mine.” Ambrose’s mouth twitched into a smile. “He comes to me for both. We’ve been friends since college. After a disastrous blind date.”
Well, there was no leaving that story unfinished. Ambrose started the story with, “Let me tell you about the most charming person I’ve ever met.” Ambrose and Raf (Lutz, his last name, to everyone else) had actually been set up on a blind date by some mutual friends. “The entire thing was a failure. My god, we were compatible intellectually but I was so nervous being stared at all night by this handsome man. We went down the boardwalk, he turned, I turned. We tried to kiss…” He clapped his hands together and laughed. “I nearly broke his nose.”
Barrett winced. “Hell of a first impression.”
“Truly.” Ambrose started scrolling through his phone. “I scanned a bunch of old photos in….ah, here.”
There they were. A clearly young 20-something Ambrose, gawky and thin, uneven skin and wild auburn hair next to… “Did he model or something?”
“Now you know why I was nervous all night.”
Raf was stunning. Between the kind of jawline people paid thousands to surgeons for to the hazel eyes that sparked with mischief, he was drop-dead gorgeous in a way that didn’t feel intimidating. His hair was wild, too; probably kicked up by a late summer ocean breeze. But that overly-tousled mass of black curls looked sexy in the lazy kind of way. Like he’d just slipped out of the arms of a lover.
“And here’s us on my birthday last May.” Ambrose flipped to another photo album.
Barrett’s throat went dry. Raf was even more beautiful, but now the hair was perfectly styled and brushed just enough away from his face to show off the winking emeralds in his ears; so you could see the long neck and a bit of gold at his throat. He and Ambrose were dressed in blazers and button-downs, except Ambrose’s jacket was flung over one shoulder. It was such a casually masculine image, sleek and stylish, that it made Barrett realize he was glad he could never find suit jackets in his size. There was no way he was pulling off that kind of lean sensuality.
Not like Ambrose. Now, or in the photo, or a decade and a half ago.
Something twisted low in his gut and it made Barrett dig his fingers into his thigh. “Looks like fun,” he rasped. “Dinner?”
“Dinner, drinks, and then he convinced me to go dancing. That man, I swear.” Ambrose chuckled, the sound rich and dark. “He could sell a realtor their own house if he wanted to. It’s too bad he has a heart of gold, he’d be a fabulous con man.”
“You insult all your friends like that?” Barrett was teasing, so his tone was light.
“Ha, very funny. And no, just Raf. Mostly because it makes him laugh and he knows it’s true.”
“And you’re sure he’s not a model?”
“Raf owns four mixed media art galleries on the west coast and writes poetry. I think in one life he was a model, and in this life he chose to sell local art.”
“So he has about ten spouses now, right?”
“Lifelong bachelor.” Ambrose laughed with a shrug. “Always been of that mindset. Hell, he didn’t buy a condo until about five years ago. Liked the thrill of moving from city to city, meeting new people.” He motioned at his phone. “Which he’s obviously very good at.”
“And you two…”
“After that disastrous first date? No, never. It wasn’t the way we clicked, and honestly, I’m luckier for it. He’s the sibling I never had, trite as that sounds.” Ambrose gave him a pointed look. “And you two would get on quite well, I think. He loves the outdoors. It’s one of the first things we bonded over, sans nearly broken nose.”
