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I laughed. “You are one.”
“Yeah, and I don’t understand myself half the time,” he said wryly.
I tilted my head. “What’s that all about?”
“Nothing,” he said with a sigh and a shake of his head. “Just the same sad story of the gay boy crushing on the straight boy.”
“You mean Zach, the bartender?”
His mouth dropped open. “How did you know? Am I that obvious?”
“No,” I replied with a shake of my head. “But I have eyes. He’s hot. And I may have caught you staring the other night.”
He groaned. “Thankfully, the guy is oblivious.” He looked me up and down. “I still don’t get Marco though. I mean, you’re gorgeous and a good man. All heroic and shit.”
I threw my head back and laughed. “I wouldn’t go that far.” I shook my head. “I don’t think Marco is trying to be an asshole. I got the impression that he lost someone he loved. Maybe he’s not over it.”
Miguel rolled his eyes. “What is it with people trying to hold on to their exes?”
I thought about the bone-frog tattoo over Marco’s heart and the picture and flag case I’d seen on the mantel in his dimly lit living room. “I don’t mean a breakup,” I corrected. “I think the guy died.”
“Oh.” Miguel blew out a breath. “Well, that sucks. I can see why he wouldn’t want to get attached.”
“To be honest, I don’t either,” I said. “I’m just getting my feet under me. I’m in no position to start a serious relationship.”
“I get it,” he said with a sigh. “I think I’m just projecting my neediness onto you.” He finished his coffee and stood. “I have to get to my office. The hotel is now officially full for the week of Thanksgiving. I’m going to see if some of the college students who worked over the summer want to make a little extra money over the holiday.”
“If you’re shorthanded, I’m happy to help when I’m not working at the VNA,” I said.
He smiled. “Thank you. I’ll let you know.”
I grabbed a protein bar from the breakfast counter and made my way to Sean’s office. I really loved the look and feel of the office. It was true to its Victorian roots without being dark and somber. The large south-facing window had a lot to do with that. I smiled when I sat behind the desk and saw the picture of Mr. Whitaker, Sean, and me on the desk. It was taken about a year before the old man died. I opened Sean’s laptop, entered his password, and got to work.
An hour later, I’d checked all the accounts Sean wanted me to and had gotten all the payroll information uploaded. I also checked the budget he’d set for the Thanksgiving meal against the purchases already made and the projected attendance. I’d just decided to go check on Sean’s cottage to see if it was all set for his return when my phone rang. I looked at the screen and was surprised to see Marco’s name there. I felt my stomach twist. Was he calling to cancel our lesson? I blew out a breath. Only one way to find out.
“Hey, Marco, what’s up?”
“There’s been a change of plans,” he began. “Can we meet earlier?”
He sounded stressed. “Sure. Is everything okay?”
There was a pause before he answered. “Tony got a call today. I’d rather talk about it in person. How soon can you get to the gym?”
“I’m already at the hotel,” I replied. “If you want, we can meet in Sean’s office. There’s more privacy.”
“Sounds good,” he said. “Be there in ten.” Then he hung up.
I blew out a breath. Okay. Even though Marco didn’t say it, I knew that was a call to one of those “off-the-books” missions Tony had talked about when he vetted me. I did a mental inventory of my medical bag, trying to remember if I needed anything. I would have to check it before we went wherever we were going.
Marco got to the hotel in less than ten minutes. His expression was grim when he walked in the door, closing and locking it behind him. I leaned against the desk, guessing this wouldn’t be a cozy sit-down conversation. “Where are we headed?” I asked.
Marco’s frown softened to an almost smile. “You picked that up pretty quickly.”
I shrugged. “You had your ‘mission voice’ on.”
“My mission voice?” he asked flatly.
“Yeah,” I replied. I tapped my temple. “I’ll always remember how your mission voice sounds.”
